The moon went down
The polished hill
The milky town
Transparent, weightless, luminous
Uncovering the two of us
On that fundamental ground
Where love’s unwilled, unleashed, unbound
And half the perfect world is found
Is it sylphs or gnomes playing? The groves of pines have throught them, brushing, shadows and lightest, breaths of musical rhythms
No comments:
Post a Comment