for Tony's prompt at dVerse - the repetition of a line in poetry
When sunrise reddens the morning sky,
in a sailor's warning,
do you see the mist wrapping breathtaking shawls
around the shoulders of the shivery hills?
Notice the cedar pointing poky heads through the clouds,
as if they are peering around
to see what kind of day it will be?
Hear the slap of a beaver's tail on the sleepy lagoon?
To creatures both rooted and rootless,
it must seem the most beautiful world.
When you think of red-robed monks,
walking prayerfully in the tracks of the snow leopard,
to hang prayer flags atop the snowy mountain peaks,
can you envision them gazing upwards towards heaven,
where their prayers are ascending,
then straight down to the valley floor,
where they bestow devout blessings?
Do you not agree that
it is a most beautiful world?
When noontime is lazy with the heat,
and bees buzz sleepily
around the summer gardens,
when you bite into a ripe red strawberry
and juice drips down your chin and you laugh
as you catch the drops,
when the mourning doves call
from the top of the willow,
does it sound like they're singing:
it is the most beautiful world?
When sunset turns the horizon
into a crimson canopy,
with accents of gold and purple,
to majestically close the curtain
on the dramatics of the day,
when the moon rises up in the indigo sky
and the stars come out winking
like mysterious mystical messengers,
when the dark hills huddle like a sleepy giant
along the inner harbor,
and the fading song of the whippoorwill
echoes across the inlet,
is the song in your heart the same as sings in mine?
It truly is a most beautiful world!