If I could fill both your hands
with it could it
change yiour view of the world.
Rhythmic the motion
as butterflies float upon the
leaves that strain to hold them.
If I could but fill both your lips
twin hills a certain
small valley placed between them.
A stream once flowed there
the smell in the air
I can taste what it was that's
not there.
Over the edge and down the
wide ledge
into places I've not been before.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem