I guess they just keep coming. Maybe I need a change of scene.
FROM STONE
Just beyond the stillness of stone
and its ultimate hush
there's a buzz of small sounds inside
and oozing from the river mud;
voices that can no longer be contained.
I stop to strain and listen
as strange sounds from stone continue
expect a rush of miniscule creatures
to rush the bank where I stand
any second.
Two black headed gulls
do their mating dance on the slipway;
in their cries that go on
through ruffled feathers in a cold wind
I see their passion, yearning,
a wild poetry that only they can understand.
Strange to think we were all once
small sounds that emerged from stone
bw
James
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