Monday, January 7, 2019

tattered clothes and the wind


        And where to begin, we cast
tattered clothes to the wind
        we pass
a world without compulsion
        enter the portals again
         we cast upon the wind
over the sea

        Bells blowing in the trees
wordless notes of ease
        of poetry
we travel these wastes and gardens
to the door in the greenery
        birds fly cawing.

         We laugh as water laughs
its way down the rock into the sea.
          We cast into the deep
and take with us what we can carry:
light objects from various markets
            a feather
            part of one wool blanket
            scraps only)
            words mostly


            nothing  -
            tattered clothes
and the wind.

(C) 1980-2019 by W.G. Milne

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