Those worried doves have come again, cooing,
searching, searching for the old woman of Tyre
the one who listened, who understood their language
by spinning, dancing, draped in bones and feathers.
She was one of the last to go over the horizon.
I tell them, figure it out for yourselves...
there's not much intelligence here now,
just a few marmots, eating, eating
and lots of guys racing bicycles.
searching, searching for the old woman of Tyre
the one who listened, who understood their language
by spinning, dancing, draped in bones and feathers.
She was one of the last to go over the horizon.
I tell them, figure it out for yourselves...
there's not much intelligence here now,
just a few marmots, eating, eating
and lots of guys racing bicycles.
I don't comment on many. I would just keep saying 'Wonderful!' and 'Lovely' over and over again. But I want to tell you that they reach deep. You do keep my soul alive.
ReplyDeleteThanks much. What a lovely comment. I really am so aware of you - so far away and so near at the same time!
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