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