Saturday, 13 December 2008

There is a man
With a deep forest tan,
Who smiles like a child,
Whose dark, timid eyes
Are the freedom of blue skies.
Grey-morning memories
Of raindrops on trees.
He strides- an Orpheus;
Musician of the mind
With no tune to play,
But the glitter of a joy
That kindles a music in the other.
Tramp of the lonely, dark woods;
With a rustle he moves,
Adorned with a jungle tune
That is his heart-song.
Quiet entrails
Following brown, elfin-mirthed eyes
And the wings spread
In the freedom of blue skies.
I watch,
And the eagle flies.

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