Tuesday, 19 July 2011

beneath a rose moon on midsummer nights.
bowing unto the singing hills.
I am plural. a perfect nest of soft.
revealing one petal at a time.
I plant seedlings in the crevices
and wonder.
who is wiser, the one with feet of moss,
or he with "odyssey" written on his soles...

2 comments:

Timo said...
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alvaro barcala said...

Words of moss written on the soles. Definitely poetry is a way of pilgrimage through the wonder. At least yours.