running wild through untamed fields,
aimless notions guiding me
to the edge of an almost still river.
small beneath the pristine sky,
my spirit trusting the azure currents
to carry me to my final destination
somewhere across the silent meadow
a distant smile awaits my arrival,
and the wind calls my name.
I hear the wind call my name,
and I follow…
Contains word prompt from
Cyranny’s Word of the Day Challenge.
Date: 2022-04-14 | Word: pristine
Photo Credit: Cheryl via Flickr.
Copyright 1990 / 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Pristine poetry! 👏
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