[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[NicknamedBob]

Bright Eye, Tail Bushed

I’m bright of eye, I can attest,
But not from having gotten rest.
The coffee that I do consume,
Has opened eye to too-bright room.

My tail is bushed, I must confess,
My fitful sleep only from duress.
The blessings of a restful night,
I haven’t seemed to master, quite.

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed am I,
Eager to give the new day a try,
But sometime soon I may just slink,
Off to my nest to catch a wink.

NicknamedBob . . . . January 13, 2007

[Lady Jag]

How High May Spirits Soar? (Sonnet)

How high may spirits soar? How high is hope? How high is happiness? How high the sky? What trembling thoughts, ascend with me, this happy slope, Towards the moon, the stars: Tell me how high? How high the Heaven, when and where my angels sing? Their hymns, I hear resound through all my soul. How high is colour? Where exquisite Light may bring A gentle goodness; Swoon! How high the whole? How high the price for this? Would not be dear enough. My senses, all the Universe, below! Each crest, each vale, each life so far is near enough- Oh Joy! Oh Happiness! Undreamed before! What seems so small conveys a heart so high above; I need to know in words: How high is Love? -February 15,2006 Darkness Visible