mardi, février 22, 2005

Wonderful Eye

can’t be sure of any step
I’m on ice, rocks of ice
with pockets of snow
where my slender ankle goes
and hand in hand you find me
lying there
camera pointed off in the air
to commemorate
for posterity
the sanguine tree,
the cross, the sky -
my weary, wonderful eye -
as big jets fly by
and hand in hand you enjoy
the sight
hearts and minds take flight