There was no house for me to leave
my structures...maybe.. and sudden light
Nazca lines on fantasy maps, rabbit tracks
to caves of ice, a winter's hut
guiding me, the Fates of melting ice
or fire searing a July day.
The reflected I, a blue shadow dance
yet there, under that world
something winged
spinning seeds up through an evening
perfect each in vertiginous climb
up, up to my night born stars.
my structures...maybe.. and sudden light
Nazca lines on fantasy maps, rabbit tracks
to caves of ice, a winter's hut
guiding me, the Fates of melting ice
or fire searing a July day.
The reflected I, a blue shadow dance
yet there, under that world
something winged
spinning seeds up through an evening
perfect each in vertiginous climb
up, up to my night born stars.
I love the "something winged" especially, and the "night born stars". Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much Sherry.
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