In the night I hear a deep boom split the mountains for thunder Iron-struck sparks wreath around horses' ankles Tell the winged messengers I am still on my knees collecting tokens for passage Grant me the hundred years to wander here Rain fine as mist Hail like pearls or pebbles Foam or what rises like yeast Rain laughing like a fountain of seeds flung at weddings
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.