Worlds spinning on the axis of mad journeys;
And the seas breaking turquoise, upon their rippled surfaces.
In the heart of the ears
I shall hear the shivering willows, dreaming their
Wood-smoke dreams, full of sap and funneled sunlight;
Pierced by light for a thousand years
And the flowers sleeping nestled in stars;
Gathered in the deep, among the wood-thrushes,
In coagulated violet forests, all shadowed and dark:
And a whispered peace barely rustles this world.
There is so much of what I love contained in this poem that.........it could be my own dream...could I just have a little sip of it....ahhhh....thanks ....now all is better....this is what the best poetry does...I like "barely rustles" ....quick call the sheriff I think this is "barely illegal"...lol
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