Wednesday, 4 May 2016
One day these wings will rain, will walk
Will not need to fly, to soar: will walk
Rain makes poems in insects: locust ladybugs bees
Rain swallows wings, they fall from the sky tumble spill walk.
Labyrinth-speak: hear hold enfold
Dreams held in lips we will, to fulfil, walk.
“Come gently,” he whispered, “carve me safe into stone”
“Reach me” he breathed, “Gently come to the hill, walk!”
I survived you: a wonder surviving the winter
Even after you I can still walk.