Tagore

 

He lives-

his each breath

is a calm, placid word

with a shelter,

with the southerly breeze

tucked inside-

to give me a home,

to blow away the sobs still left-

 

He sings-

his each note

is a cloud-sail

with a fiery dream,

with a skein of geese

flecked on it-

to kindle my soul,

to make it forever free-

 

He is a forever giver.

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Charity @ Poets United