Signs

[couchgrouch]

SignsThere's an old Magnolia, that tells me to turn rightI'll follow my own footprints, when I walk back tonightthere's a clear water puddle, along the clover pathit's an honest mirror, and a fresh birdbathand September leaves, from trembling treeseach one is like a canoethey float a whisp'ring brook, as if to lookfor the mercy of May anewand in my hour of anguishlife speaks in the languageof signsthere's a simple message, untamed beauty bringsI have found it written, in a red hawk's wingsin morning mountains, wearing mist like a shawland the shadow of a woman, bathing in a waterfallbut when I behold, bright autumn goldmy dreams will drift their farthestand if my ear should hear, a songbird nearmy heart will reap a harvestfor in my hour of anguishlife speaks in the languageof signs'neath some swaying trees, I drop to my kneesby a leaning stonebut do souls leave signs, so they can findtheir way back homecos there's no better acre, than the wildernessfor a wandering spirit, to build a nestI know someone's in the shadows, in the shadows of despairnot just deaf ears of darkness, to hear my lonely prayercos in my hour of anguishdeath speaks in the languageof signs(c)2005 Robert George