Poetry By StarFields


A Time Of Rest


I am flying
in a holding pattern
high above
the sea of night.

Below, the waters are beautiful
they reflect the moon
and me.

Towering waves
seem insignificant
for I am high;
no roar of storms
here, all is silent.

I breathe.

Slow is the beating
of my wings.

A filament of light
streaks the horizon -
soon, the time to act
will come.


SFX 06

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