Turning Clouds
When the night sky is
swirled around
inside a can
And the liquid mind
can conjure all the lost
words
of a day
eyes half drunk/half sober
washed away in the mundane
chores we endure
like robots
walking
in the forgetful air
we switch on the TV
to see a language of our world
shrinking in data
listen to radio that holds
a symphony in it`s wirery
signals
When the night clouds
are dark
with
tomorrows rain
and a scatter of crows
crawl tattered feathers across the noise of dusk
and what we see
in each rise
of the sun
is never the same
Our perception is
ours
the sky an open gaze
are tentacles that stretch like the light
of sometimes
for these
descriptions
sharing in the sub-vocal towers
and in the talk of
hills and horses
we share these like breathed out kisses
learn the pattern of birdsong
through love and earthly connections
amongst
are
planet of
listeners.
