A crop of thistledown globes;
painted lady* on a chair;
the stillest day down here;
white clouds sail by up there;
may blossom shy in hedge;
while apple blossom falls;
as blackbird tongues his lay
then my words too are calls.
They flash around the globe
to those who look to hear;
they reach out with a ring
to any: free of care,
or those who suffer long
love's deep wounds to repair.
.........................
*'painted lady' is a species of butterfly.
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poetry"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
