Sung

The morning is vast

The sun is my beckoning—

Sends the animals

And the green ocean which

The mind calls promise

Then music—

Ordinary bird calls

Joy is so often powerlessness…

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto

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