I have drunk in cups of tulip petals and spoken
to trees. The air has held my plain feelings in
ferries of clouds and crossed shores. Tides of east
and west winds churn them into an amber sky.
As little by little precipitation oscillated over a wide
distance, I stared at flags little ships carried, over
the horizon. While weary schoolchildren returned,
their footsteps created rhetoric with the music within.
I sought tranquility in ends of leaf and flower petals,
Sat upon beige sands with dark patches on an island,
And blushed so the world might not know the ebbs
Even only a sound within my clay mould body contained. (more…)