Myra's submittal for Monday, April 6

Flashback

late winter,early evening
suddenly the sun casts a spot of light
on some tree limbs high up and bare.
stirred by the glow I stand and stare like
a small child at the moon. often have I sood
here on the grass, as a bird might
searching for seeds, and failed to notice

the sun's shadows or a pattern of light
laced through the redwood.
up there now in the sun's beam
forgotten voices whisper

from light yeas away - reminiscing.
their sweet breath bringing
sky to earth
lost to found.