Please play the music video while reading the poem that follows...
My sweet, mournful Loon...
In the ripening Autumn gold
You lift me from the shying, the fearful,
Lone castaways on the shore.
With cadent wings we climb the crisp, beloved silence.
Below, rippling cradles glitter through the dusk.
We are yearlings in that saffron mist...
Migrations of the muse,
Reflections of a longing heart.
I am, once more, a child.
Returning of the fall
I embrace our winged sojourn
Through words aloft in pilgrimage...
In this, my coming home.
© 2016 Poetry Written and Copyrighted by Genna Eastman (Genna East)