The Free Wild Things

This is a little poem is by Bev Doolittle.  I discovered it on a print some time ago and wrote it on a slip of paper that has been with me for quite a while.  It struck a chord with me somehow, so  I thought I’d share it with you…  Please read it slowly, and let nature overtake you.  My gift to you.

A broken song beneath the snow,
the echo of a soaring joy, 
a shape in the mist,
a touch in the rain,
in wilderness you come again.

You tell us what you used to know…
You speak for all the free wild things
whose ways were ours
when the wind had wings.


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