THE RINGING OF POLES
Those poles are ringing with the wind - fierce blusters
passing through the coils and wires, making sound
unearthly. But sure and steadfast too - I hear the words
I only can imagine : dark-night mentions of the souls, and
the tissued-new fabrics of moons and planets too. Anything
substantial will throw a deep shadow, and I will read the blunt
message it gives me. Unheeded and un-asked, I go on.
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