Each One Has Been Given His Own way

Each One Has Been Given His Own Way

It's morning and people are walking by,
They smile at me ,I too smile back ,
And wonder where they all are going,
what's their purpose and mooring?

A flock of herons flies overhead
They are so disciplined in their  flight,
They fly in the "V" pattern so precise
Not a bird out of line or lagging behind.

A boy rides swiftly by on a bicycle,
Just laughing and having a grand time,
And with not a care in the world,
He just hums and nods at the elders.

Then There's  a robin feeding her young ,
They hungrily take what she is giving them,
Away  she flies  and comes back with a twig,
Perhaps to strengthen her tiny nest.

As I walk leisurely  watching the world go by
I often wonder what is going on
In the great cosmos and here on earth,
Do I really know what its all about?

I smile to myself and shrug my shoulders,
Why, even the lilies bloom through the boulders!
Let it be me or a robin or a heron,
Each one has been given a way  to go on.

© Portia Burton
November 6, 2014
Cambridge