I had forgotten the sweet burning wood Made more by that time of year, That quality of year. Summer's burning is not the same And It felt so good to be home I'd been a long time, gone And it felt so good to be home.
My ideas, again, flown Like birds on a wire. They sit for a moment Usually until I disturb them with a look And then, alas...they alight One great cloud of inseparable beauty That I can never touch or examine But only relish that I was there for the alighting And disappearance. And that I am … Continue reading Birds on a Wire