I swear to you now: each word's taste matters
in ways everyone can share. All the rest
is window dressing. Just as light scatters,
sparkle and shard, we're at our level best

when we favour language. Catch a couple
lightly, roll them around your tongue, savour them.
Don't they have bite and texture? They're supple,
they nourish us. Narratives flavour them,

pepper and salt them with understanding.
So think rogue notions, curried rascal thoughts
slathered with chilli's heat, those commanding
one's rapt attention. On spicy breath floats

a smorgasbord - rich thoughts like you and I,
us and them, and each bound by that word 'and'.
Like magic, threading through us eye to eye,
they spell time, space and culture, common land

and dreams, equal in their differences,
where there's nobody issuing orders,
with neither watchtowers, gates nor fences,
and conclusively, no walls or borders.

M. Peacock 10-121225/19126