Managers

The wind sings the ageless rhyme

of the coos and lowing in creative cacophony,

felt as the natural tendrils in resonant pleas

to summon the spirit towards that earthen manager

seen by vigilant eternal eyes as the conscience’s ledger,

the beating parchment in need of feed.

 

Fingers swell from that inner tide,

an intuitive surge in love’s voltage,

while listening with heart ears

unto the melody in custodian legacy

when visions stir through that melody in beastly tongues

so commanding by its subtle dulcet sway.

 

Amid those weaponless hoofs, wings and claws

arises the symphony in ancient serenade,

ever beckoning by instinct’s spell

unto the sense in deepest harmony,

It is when the shepherd awakes in that planetary yard

and takes up the ancestral staff of guardian/keeper,

obeys the oblation of impulse,

stands as protector instead of predator.

 

Within the scents that arouse in that communion

is the balm in pastoral perfume,

which spreads as incense unto the mind

until all living things become a cherished gift.

 

Then hands take up the caretaker’s vigil

willingly extending vital nourishment

so that anything that breathes

has a chance to thrive in teaming streams of compassion.