A wanderer by heart, weaving a natural high,

O’er field, valley, meadow, shadows in the night.

Clouds, rain, snow, heat from the summer’s sun,

Wandering ever aimlessly, laid back, never on the run.

Stealth, softly footsteps weep, stretching arms rise,

Breathe deep, clear mind, soul’s spirit, ancient eyes,

Searching, seeking, an unknown force pushing ever onward,

And still wandering, a tune hauntingly whistled, ever on guard.

Dedicated to Lady and Hero

© Cynthia Clark