Manufacturing Shadows
Make them Think in Words
Let the birds
be buried
beneath the clouds
And let the tree be the marriage
of soil and sound
The juniper with its reddish fur
reveals its smoke in stick and spur
Far across the valley green
into forests with an ancient gleen
It came to me in light that day
In shouldered soldiers on their way
To mills that shape and splint desire
And echo in scented stacks of fire
Make them dream in sounds
Let the hounds
be carried
across the down
And let the soul be the marriage
of sea and ground
Copyright 2006
