Earth Poem by Leslie Philibert
Earth
Under the singing ploughland
that sucks at heels;
a crush of half sticks
warm cake of moss and water
the dark loam broken.
Bones as flint
and flint to cut.
But they have it all;
rivers and mountains
and palaces and streets
(rain as white wine,
stars as gravel
the moon`s rock)
and the foolishness of glued wings.
The tread of cruel steps.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
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4/27/2024 12:22:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
