Song XIX

[smokingboot]

I couldn't worry
The sky was so soft
And the wind lifted me
out of daisy grass and the wayfarer's
footfall, up, up I travelled
The moon was stranded over
a field of dandelion clocks
Every seed was lit
By a crater or a sea
Counting them from nightfall
To morning and then I
threw myself on the dawn
Dew-sprinkled, pollen gathering
in the heart of the sun.