In Indian Summer ( I Am Blessed )



Born in Indian Summer, amid the gales and the storms, and the consequent thunder,
From October into November, these blowing winds, their cold harshness as I remember,

I have no answer for this pale night I find myself enmeshed in, that which I now give to thee,
For words that are elected, erected, were meant to be - by us all, in order that we be free . . .

Here where words, pearls, drops of gold, all that pour from the breathing of this beast I am told,
Were formed in the very least, found haunting, left wandering, wondering, hidden in days of old,

No answer, No! Nothing left here but to alight in night upon the thin branches of freedom's song,
For freedom is the mainsail to all that is given us, all we delve into, whether we be right or wrong,

And as we perch here we find our freedom is but a song sung long into darkness and the night,
As we chirp like crickets, rubbing our legs t'gether, fondly seeking life's truer moments in flight,

But here in Indian Summer I write best, the deepest, knowing and finding my freedom wings,
Will one day be blessed.



Thom Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

===



===

Always enjoy your poems!

Tul,


Thanks Tul, honey.

The end of your poem made me want to leap and fly into tomorrows story.
I really like this Thom

Ladywind,

Thank ye so much. I do like the ending too.

Thank you,

tommy boy moran / Ireland