Birds in flight.
A gust upwards
And they glide gracefully on the wind.

Sometimes seeing is the purest form of art. There is no manipulation. No trying to get someone to react in a certain way. There are no attempts to dazzle or amaze with flowery words or descriptions. No attempts to put pride or cleverness on display for all to see. There is just the seeing, and whatever flows from that.

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 16th, 2006 at 10:21 am and is filed under Poetry, abarefootman. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.