They weren't anounced by thunderSo much as skittering feetOver frozen furrows,In the night's soft quiet,Gathering kindling,They come.
When the sun comes up,and the fire is stilland the wheel is still,and the bridle ornamentsare silent - my love,my ears will enclose you.
At last, some waterhe watched them paint the night skyflecks of yellowmixed with amber and grey
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3 comments:
They weren't anounced by thunder
So much as skittering feet
Over frozen furrows,
In the night's soft quiet,
Gathering kindling,
They come.
When the sun comes up,
and the fire is still
and the wheel is still,
and the bridle ornaments
are silent - my love,
my ears will enclose you.
At last, some water
he watched them paint the night sky
flecks of yellow
mixed with amber and grey
Post a Comment