The Pulse
I breast the hill
leg-muscles tingling,
pounding chest;
in my eardrums
a pulse is ... pulsing -
what's its source?
Hand on heart, I sense:
no, not the old pump,
behaving normally.
Beyond somewhere,
in the sky maybe,
or behind the trees.
Over the next hill,
there's a hidden source,
thronged with birds,
vibrating with energy
radiating here to me
sharing in the pulse.
Max Richards
------------------------------------------------------------
This email was sent from Netspace Webmail: http://www.netspace.net.au
|