I miss a place I used to go,
A meadow, sweet, and lost in time,
Hot in June,
Warm in Fall,
she cries, yes she cries
under the sea, the yellow sea
the lime green sea
She dreams of August in the singing morning..
When all the little things come out to play,
When every spider's web is sticky, lacy,
And every kid will have the pinkest day.
I'm sad when I'm happy
Blue when I'm green
Always a poet
Strange things have I seen
Get up, get up, the trees are crying,
The spiders cling to their tears,
..in sticky ecstasy.
Webs floating, as they moistly dream.
I am always out here on the streets,
Night and day I am here.
In the winter and early spring it sometimes can be very cold.
I have favorite places to beg,
She was captured by the looks he slanted at her,
Bound by shining love she thought she had,
Held by dancing promises in dark eyes,
Why then was she ever sad.
A Familiar Light
The short exquisite days of late November, tremble,
in hesitation and in glory,
and in fear,