young woman at rail

A friend recently sent me a picture of a bridge I can see a young girl standing on that bridge singing the swallows in .. lovely write short and sweet :) Love JayC

with a human audience of one... did she see you? I believe I would have sat back and listened, and took the moment in... as I am now.

What a pretty little poem. Thank you for your kind comments on the doggie poem. ------------------------------------------- "Until that ‘morrow render unto me That which is mine my stipend well deserved The fairest flower of your progeny Your sons, your daughters your hopes and your dreams The cruel consequence of your conceit" - Steve Earle

young woman at rail sings to flight .......swallows A very pleasing poem, Chuck. The first part seems a sculpt. Don't mind my diddling :) Mark Trust is a secret that never comes home.

Lovely, I am captivated by it... ? like the bird she has sung into her presence~ Anni ~~~ "... sometimes I hear my voice - And it's been here .... Silent All These Years" ~Tori Amos.

I MUST find a quote that has some of this wonder in it. I do however remember, also in Andalusia hearing from a high open window onto the street, a woman who was scrubbing the floors inside, she sang in a full blooded Andalusian voice and captured my whole attention for a while, it was so wonderful. Another time was in hospital when a woman with an untrained voice sang full swing with a whole choir on the radio, she had earphones on and didn'rt realise that she was heard by the whole room, that too was a lovely experience. Then there are the times one hears chldren singing quietly to themselves, its moving that! Ann of Norway OO look I forgot the stars. Here's the quote i found it:- p.210. Michener's 1 Spain.- "What I remember most vividly....as the matador and I walked a flock of swallows stayed with us, perhaps a hundred in all, and when we took a step they swooped down to the tips of our shoes, then off into the sky, one after another, so that we moved in a kind of living mandorla such as encloses the saints in Italian religious paintings. At times the swallows came within inches of our faces, swooping down with an exquisite grace past our finger tips and to our toes, flicking the swamp water with their wings. This continued for about half an hour, during which we seemed to be members of this agitated flock, participants in their spatial ballet, which moved with us wherever we went. it was one of the most charming experiences I have ever had in nature, comparable I suppose only to the day when I first skin-dived to the bottom of the coral beds of Hawaii; there was the same sense of Kinaesthetic beauty, of nature in motion, with me in the centre and participating in the motion."

in a world of sometimes ugliness this pretty poem presently perfectly has captivated me to give you five stars I love bridges most people are scared because its unnatural for them and mud swallows build so high so their babies are protected from predators birds are wonderful creatures of God they take me out of me for a moment with them and your poem crafted has done this to me My two favourite things My little Lori sings too to her heavy metal music Korn and Limp Bisquit in her little sing song voice her skull shirt on You paint in so few words a magnificent picture my freind (I still Love the "Santa" coon Pic you have)