So many words
and none
to describe
the simple cycles
of the sun towards west
this moon rising east
In the bowl of the valley
one dusk-winged heron flies south
towards the sea
and above in still clear twilight
buzzard flaps in languorous
widening circles
upwards and upwards
Break the glass and fall
towards the glassblower's lips
says Rumi
What we all want is
a love so light
it can fly
so deep the ocean comes
to our call
– Roselle Angwin
(o)
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