love
lurking with the
ants
down the road
from
termite city,
catapulted into
a chasm
of chiliasm
the mountain
winds
loud as a mill
sweep away sheep,
woollen
parachutes drifting down
all over town
meanwhile,
we concentrate
on
uplifting spiritual journeys made by ants
past the rock with
the piled stones,
hearts pounding
with the ascent.
I do like that image of the sheep and parachutes, Robbie.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jill, I have a warped imagination!
ReplyDelete