Showing posts with label the poems of toil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the poems of toil. Show all posts

21 February 2014

wait i while

we walk an ancient paths,
being-under spruce and birch and air
and a conversations we cannot
hear

we sleep an ancient dreamings,
of glacier and iceberg and reflection
a substances beneath we will not
feel

we yearn for an ancient languages,
spoken in softly; as spice and song
and a Spirits that we did not
know