ELLIPSE
At sunrise the heron soars effortlessly upon the breeze
as waves roll in and crash upon the rocks and beaches.
Rising tides reach high upon the sands slowly fading away
the sun breaks through my window and kisses my cheek.
Round and round and round the great circle of life travels;
much like a whirlpool of bubbles in a small forest stream.
The day turns to night, and night to day, as the tide rises,
the cloudy morning rings the bell and the death beds roll.
202