A love poem

written in the sky with

birds, clouds, blue

spoken by the silence that

cannot help being beautiful

She cannot help being beautiful
and I have learned to love that sculpted
flow of hers–all that’s secretive…

Blue surfaces.  Silences.

Now I know the depth of blue, flowing,
that depth of blue, my love, silent.

She cannot help being beautiful
Oh my love my love my love__who_owl_hill___by_nine9nine9