Stardust

sleeping with Rilke,
wrapped in the rain.
attaining the heights
and depths of smallness...

unfolding, unwrapping,
of such is living;
layer upon layer
we discover ourselves

in everything that breathes,
in clouds, trees bent with rain.
in the hollow of the wind
where all is stillness.....

in the ordinary, the common,
we find stardust in a bird's
abandoned nest, in a nail
on the side of the barn...

rusted with time

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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