Monday, December 13, 2010

For the reason that

I watched the proud old trees
Standing erect, like awakened conscience.
Peace and silence.
No soul to be seen.
Clearly the winter has not finished its story,
And the sun, chained by the fogs
Is still waiting for its belated glory.

The winding paths looped along,
and the wild wind above
In a flood of mists blew.
And with our dear earth I am ever in love,
Because you are walking it too…


Last night you wrote your sonnets in  Braille: the commas, parenthesis, ellipses engraved perfectly on my skin- and  I  ...