The riddles whispered
By the far sea
And empty shell
Reveal primal words
In secret song.
The heron’s mad glance
Offers subtle hints;
Sly knowledge
In scribbled pages
Of an ancient book.
The slow round turtle
And winter lizard
Care little for us;
Our ponderous clouds
Dapple the sun
In streaks of gray.
Sunlight and birdcalls
embrace no such ego;
The stitches on the loom
Enfold the world
Like wings.
whoisfenton 