Something in me thrills
to far away people and places
it ripples into me
on tides of poetry
a wildness sweet
and distant
a wistful call
silvery echoes
from
rich tapestries
and foreign faces
the titillating
sounds of
water splashing through
a hidden glen
How can I be
free
and yet be with
called as I am to wildness
Spring 1987
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem