small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Sometimes at Night

Sometimes at night the words
run through my mind
like sparkling water.

I cannot sleep but do not care
to stop the flow
even if no-one hears

except the trees
whose roots I hope
one day to enter

when my body and my words
are turned to ash and rise
through tiny channels in the wood

to write at last
with sunlight in the book
of many leaves.

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