Precious touch like a drizzle of rain running down my arm. A kicked wind more like a breeze they say. There’s greatness in destruction just adjust you granted eyes. Lead to the gallows! Watch the spirit fly away! A flock moves south they are silent. . . The large moves so solemn So impossible to know. They reach up – all reach up. They sing away Be safe they say Where the mountains rise is where the sun the black the wind hides.
1 comment:
Love your words, Jim. The hard times come no matter what:
"There’s greatness in destruction
just adjust you granted eyes.
Lead to the gallows!
Watch the spirit fly away!"
But there is always hope, if we just have faith:
"A flock moves south
they are silent. . .
The large moves so solemn
So impossible to know.
They reach up –
all reach up."
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