A Mournful Cry

A Mournful Cry
Copyright 2010 by Larry Knox

I see a white cloud
against a blue sky
I hear a blackbird
sing his death cry

I smell the sweet rain
on the new mown hay
I hear the river rise
and the dogs at bay

BRIDGE

I was an orphan
before I was born
In this life,
there's nothin' for certain
one day joy–the next we mourn

I hear a mournful cry...

I see my lady smile
When I look her way
I hear her baby cry
at the break of day

the nature of impermanence

Early Light

I spent a good number of weekends this summer on assignment getting up well before dawn and heading out to different locales in hopes of catching the first light in all its glory. Waiting for a cloud bank to move or a fog to lift takes patience. But standing in a marsh or alone in the woodlands waiting for nature to reveal itself in ways you never anticipated has it's own rewards...