anna

the wind is thinking
and trees become the puzzle-piece tongues
to fit precisely
heaven's sockets

there is a harmony
between the water and the
grass cracking under the sheep's pull
and her hands sliding up and down my back

we are on either sides of the surface
a gull flies up and touches its reflection
i saw the wing-tips melt, there were
cherubs on the ark in prayer

and all the sweet light, coming from the sea-side
all the little dancing bugs, the nodding reed
and silver fish, and hasty high clouds

awed

silence is not the absence of sound
it is the presence of peace

she said