Peter Hans Poems

“Outside, the wind flows as the river
Arrows shoot down, drawn from the quiver
Colliding with them, missing by chance
Their bodies spin in the endless dance”
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Sit.
Stand.
Run.
Breath.
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High rises is the day
When one can learn to say
How we feel from where we are
About ourselves, our inner star.
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For shall I sleep,
so much like a sloth,
under the sky.
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Delicious are the choices we make
Savory nectar
Dripping from a silver spoon
Nectar we take from the Earth
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