S k y e Just Writes

By Skye Shae Bonati March 10, 2009 The road ahead brings solitude away from wayside paths, As now my horse and load are turning round to stroll the grass. It calls me where there are no bounds, where I am free to roam, But something calls me stronger; it's the calling of my home. The fast-approaching dawn is calling down into my heart, The coolness on the air is painting fathoms with an art. The softness of the morning mist is thrilling to the bone, But nothing calls me stron

4.12.13 / 8.22.13 (2) Humility, that wide-eyed child    once stood next to the fountain on Cantos Plaza A yellow tipped man hung his bow there --  drew it across the symphony he     played in his heart                           -- if only he’d known All around him sun’s rays shone through dusty    streets, finding every shadow and giving chase The plaza dripped with honey    and bread fell from the sky, but the bow drew back and forth. The conductor tapped his stand in vain p