Meditations on dust and fireflies
1.
Flight erratic
of a wayward
moth
as it hovers
between
the distant gleam
of stars and the
flicker
of a wavering candle
2.
the wind that
bends the grass
a hundred leagues
away, and steals
their golden
dreams to be
scattered amongst
the ruins of sleep
dozes sweetly now
in the undulating
silences of the sea
3.
like a burnished
urn she moves
filling up with
ashes of love...
free like a feather
cast from the
departing evening

Comments