Friday, May 17, 2019

Kit Kelen #1223 - blessed

1233
blessed

these trails in me
the forest is

sung here, there

so tell the light
for time of day

hear the colours come

things torn and dragged
the weather wears
and it repairs

in a clearing
gathered once
reach for
till the clouds

one bird a cash register
another for a phone

come to darker parts

tail sprung from a trap
should have run
should never have stopped

the yellow one
call sunshine
unfamiliar
as gold struck
from a vein of sky

ones who stood
in a certain place
gone
I study the sticks
they have left

I mist
steam
fog

I will rust

here in pocket
these worlds
cosy, chill
bubble up

the woods in my way
where I am lost
have been before  

leaf from the book
and wear such wings

I take a little running leap
and still no sign of flight

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