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Golden Gate Violin
Folder:
All Points Are Divine
A great violin
plucked by the wind
is the bridge of the Golden Gate.
In great storms it sings
In soft rain it rings
and it hums
as the winds abate.
And releases when struck
sun and moon as its notes.
Their melody floats
on the Great Milky Way...
and is born to the wings
of the cosmic lightning..
the sun and moon
notes soar away.
(to the people of San Francisco..
written a while ago.. but posted
as this bridge needs the prayers
of protection.. and not necessarily
from fundamentalist Muslims)
It makes me wish I could hear it.Your poem sings too.There is so much music around us if we only listen.Great poem.
Smile.. it is the cheapest facelift.