Returned

The sun was in a cloudless sky,
White foam topped the seas,
And out upon the waves so far,
A ship gave way to the breeze.

The beach was warm and sandy,
Farther back the grass was green,
The beach gave way to a forest,
Beneath branches shadows were seen.

And up upon the rocky cliffs,
Upon the rocks so high,
A castle sat upon ther rocks,
A flag above did fly.

The flag itself was scarlet,
With a dragon upon it's cloth,
And as it waved the dragon flew,
as it did hang aloft.

A single man did stand there,
Before the castle door,
His clothes were travel-weary,
He was from the crusader's war.

He had come from the long fought battle,
From the city of Jerusalem,
And as he wearily stood there,
The porter let him in.

That night there was great feasting,
The music did begin,
All the servants were there and declared,
Their master'd come home again.

Now he stands there often,
O'er looking the sea,
Pondering among his thoughts,
As he looked but did not see.

He wondered what would have happened,
If he had stayed through the fight,
But he never in his life returns to war,
For he has found the Light.

The Eagle

Wispy clouds float in the sky,

As the eagle glides so high,

Overlooking the world below,

Valleys of green and mountains with snow,

Forests with shadows beneath their leaves,

Swallows' nests beneath the eaves,

Back up again to it's home so high,

The canyon reaching to the sky,

Landing, looking back again,

At the tiny world of men,

Made by God, this world and all,

And the eagle's shadow o'er it does fall.

End of the Day

The sun has set,

The day is through,

The sky is dark,

A silent blue,

The stars are sprinkled,

Through the sky,

They twinkle bright,

The wind blows by,

The birds are settled,

Each in his nest,

No more they sing,

Till dawn they rest,

All is peaceful,

Calm and clear,

Until the morning,

When day is near.

Thank You

A note. Mr. Bishop, a friend of my Mother's, took the photograph of the flower used in the post "Seed Pods".

Another Thursday

Hello Chaps and Chapesses!

Yes, you are correct in assuming that it is I, Orion Wittifrid. I know I haven't written in awhile, but it's been rather dull around here. Luckily, that dog that was here is gone now. My owner, Molly, has earned a few "good girls" by feeding me that delicious chunky ocean cat food. Ahem, anyway, now that it is spring (Or summer, I forget which) there have been one or two flies in the house. And get this! Molly's mother expects ME to catch them! What a revolting thought. I wouldn't dare do that, but I tried to make it up to her by giving her hair a good grooming the other night. For some reason she didn't seem to appreciate it. *Sniffs daintily* What uncivilised people. No matter, Ta ta for now!

Orion Wittifrid

Seed pods

Out upon the meadow,
Out in the field so green,
There's a hundred tiny flowers,
Waiting to be seen,
With a thousand tiny seed pods,
Topped with a fuzzy swirl,
That makes this little flower,
Look like a fluffy pearl,
They say that if you blow them,
They'll grant your fondest dream,
But I'm not sure about that,
Things aren't always as they seem,
I do know that these seedpods,
As on the wind they soar,
Will make a new begining,
And a hundred flowers more.

A Summer Sunday

The dawn has come,

The day is near,

Pink streaks the sky,

The sky is clear,

The air is brisk,

The trees are green,

All is peaceful,

The birds do sing.

Noon has come,

The sun is bright,

In the woods,

Trees filter light,

It's quiet for,

noontime today,

In the park,

The children play.

Behind the mountain,

the sun now sets,

The children now,

take out their nets,

To catch the bugs,

So small and bright,

That light the world,

And silent night.