I hopped from rock to rock
Not fearing what a misstep
Might bring. I could dance
Away from any such thought
Or eventuality. My days
In those leaps and landings
Were the words later heard
In a daze sitting at a
Desk dreaming I might
Hold my breath forever,
Phrasing the swirls and
Surges down here
Where one must belong
To a toiling or if not
To be a fleeing,
Days pinned down by
Circumstances and books
And well toned high
Heels not suited to
Sand but well trod anyway
Keening with seabirds’ swearing.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment