Blues On The Wing

Blues on the wing
A Whip-poor-will does sing
Flows with the wind to my ear drums
Truly and softly sung
Its song is like a dream
Rainbows so heavenly gleam
Painting a landscape like a movie
Inciting such remarkable scenes
Depicting the creator's choice
3D in technicolor so gloriously groovy.
Trees are gently swaying
improvising rhythms with its voice
while the leaves rustle, playing
a counterpoint perfectly poised.
A flock of skylarks soon arrive
with a symphonic harmony.
Reminding us that spring's alive
The amazing ornithology
is a wondrous thing to rejoice
streaking their colors through the skies.
Blues on the wing
The wood thrush liltingly swings
with its pleasurable quavers
as it sentimentally wilts and sighs
Sprouting are the magnolias
with their transient grace
to present a gorgeous place
like an idyllic phenomena
transporting us with flavors.
The primulas shyly blossom
like an artist portraying
sensually expressive ballerinas.
Blues on the wing
inspires Mother Nature's son
This Country Boy Blue
is woken from a chorus of swallows
in this paradisal moment of spring.
His early morning chores are left undone
as he chases away his sorrows.
His day is set to rendezvous
with his country princess.
Her breath he will surely follow.
Blowing his horn in the garden
with a throng of new-born sparrows.
He then in a haystack will rest
exchanging kisses to slowly hearten
his lavish female companion.
Her side he will never abandon.
Blues on the wing
Flying kindly high and over
A bouquet of roses he will bring
with a handful of four-leaf clover.
Blessed by a sweet aroma
as it comes forth to refashion
the hidden mimosa.
We cast forth with a chuckle
as with our fantasy we fathom
and we keep our composure
by thrusting our passions.
The lilac forest and honeysuckle
empower our senses to gather
the depth of the vernal season
bringing us to a marvelous pinnacle.
Keeping our spirit of lust rather
than losing the exposure
to the lightened path of reason.
The breathtaking brevity
of this cherished miracle
will transform the triviality
into the most profound phantasm.
Within this state of mind
we discover an enclosure
like a mystery enshrined.
Gifting us with sublimity
and a deeper enthusiasm.
Blues on the wing
Slowly the sunset proceeds
Stroking my delicate heartstrings
Melancholy will not supersede
as we savor the imagery
Overcoming our banal needs
to relax and view the evening
as once again appears Orion
sinking into the west to speed
the coming of the early dawn.
The chirping of the wren then heeds
the mountain dew and the fawn
to dance in the morning sun.

by Paul Amrod

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