At sunrise the heron soars effortlessly upon the breeze
as waves roll in and crash upon the rocks and beaches.
Tides reach high upon the sands and slowly fade away
the sun breaks through my window and kisses my cheek.
Round and round and round the great circle of life travels;
much like a whirlpool of bubbles in a small woodland stream.
As the day turns to night, and night to day, while the sunrises,
a cloudy morning, tolls the bell and the death beds are empty.
Into autumn’s burnt ashes and all the saddened masses;
It was winter’s chill when my spirit lifted; my heart thrived
from a dead frozen shard and my soul was forever freed;
Just because you’re breathing doesn’t mean you’re alive.
At sunset the heron soars effortlessly into the twilight;
the waves now whisper to the rocks and sandy beaches;
great tides fall slowly as the full moon rises in a pink sky;
a lullaby rocks me to sleep as moonlight kisses my cheek.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, prize winning poet and fabulist from New Hampshire, now residing on the plains of Oklahoma. He is a proud member of the Poetry Society of New Hampshire. Ken has three poetry collections, "The Cellaring", "A Taint of Pity", and "Zephyr's Whisper". Ken was selected as the First Prize Winner in Realistic Poetry International 2018 and 2019 Nature Poetry Contests. He was recently selected as Poet of the Month for Spillwords Press. He's been nominated three times the Pushcart Prize and six times for Best of the Net. Ken loves writing, hiking, and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.