To the crags, where eagles soar

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll. Incidentally, it is 150 years since the publication of Alice.

 

Away with the moon,

with her shadows and all,

those sturdy penumbras

you saw in the ball.

Forget you, forget you,

you fall out of bed

and all you beget

is so-suddenly dead!

She’s tousled & sleepy,

this edge of the moon,

where

Angus, dear Angus,

just walked out the room.

His pool-side of shadows

is living alone,

with ginger-nut biscuits

and large gulps of tea,

my shadow is thinking:

is that really me?

Are all of the currents

just drifting away,

or finally forging

a minor delay?

To foster a loyalty

to heart, clan or cloud

to cover their heads

or to bury their shroud?

Infinity saves,

where the icicles cling,

on the edge of a wave,

where the albatross sings.

Now, the soft roar of silence

is all around me,

it stings me awake,

but it won't set me free.

 

◄ Day by the sea

Stormy weather ►

Comments

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poemagraphic

Sun 22nd Mar 2020 17:22

Oh! Deep deepest Joy!

THIS is music to my ears.

Thanks for bringing this feeling back to me John.
Po

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