The Old Tree

There,
curled in the nest
of the old tree,
sit for awhile.

Rejoice in
buttercups
that flame
on the hills.

Let clouds come,
let clouds go.

Then suddenly,
from stillness,
fall

into the wild,
yellow flame
of your heart.

***I just wrote this at a meditation retreat in the beautiful Sussex countryside in England.

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Freedom

This one is slightly different than my norm as I have stuck to a rhyming structure. Comments welcome!

Freedom eludes us
the moment of flight.
Bars that once caged us
loom black out of sight.

Any lengths travelled
map straight back to Here.
The grace of our wings
beats heavy with fear.

A tether holds tight
and keeps us from sky.
For fear can weigh down
a thing that can fly.

We need but glance back
where we aim to part
to finally know
what cages our heart.