physics was never an option
seared into the sky are trails left by travellers
that morning moon hangs there incomplete
exhausted after a night in its proper amour
waking on the other side of the bed
another world so familiar fades from view
the last thing you remember are turning eyes
across the water turning like a galaxy
flashing signals across spaces
and dancing nebulae instruct
the wisdom of draped limbs
over branches defying risk
a speaking cat sings in this autumn madness
conducting an orchestra with bluebells and
agriculture, these swaying spears
sweeping vistas shaped by the breath of air
a majestic canopy overhead
contains mystery and she shuts the door
so that the night stays outside
as he opens an eyelid
memory tricks tales of sorcery
wise words from the village
the season is coming
words carried through the breeze
with great care by sailors in airships
overhead they tend to our fragile
selves mediating feeling
predicting the weather
No comments:
Post a Comment