On the wings of the whistling wind

On the wings of the whistling wind

Rode the pair the nightingale and the seagull

Tenderly lifting up the small child’s dreams

To soar once more roaming freely

Past the bright orange moon the gull carried her

And the gale serenaded them both

Thru the purplish clouds they glided

Dipping down at the shore to share a feast

Where the peoples gathered their harvest nets

Where the minnows ran in the tidepools

Where beneath the sea oats swaying in the ocean breeze

Nestled squirting clams uncovered by the retreating low tide

Then watching the dancing dawn reveal the purples and pinks of morn

Once more they lifted her reluctantly

Returning her to her anxious grandfather

Who stressed why the small wee one had eaten none of his stew

And Even declined the freshly baked tart

But with the promise to return on the morrow eve they left her!

Now after the tea, boiled egg and dry toast

She raced down to the shore hoping for another glimpse of her winged friends!

Yet none -  she knew truly they would return to carry her once more that night!

Milancie Hammock Corridors Apr 2012