How long since then when the sun set
keeps me warm; when
off the beach?
Now winter again; now years again.
I walk into woods as I walk into a fairy book.
The deep road leads up to white clouds, and
clouds like horses running on prairie. Under a tree,
I rest my heart.
Cannot remember what time is now.
The road takes me to mystery.
Sometimes I am cold and hungry; sometimes
I see a beautiful deer running by.
Cannot tell if I am sad or happy.
All is not important: except life and death,
nothing really matters.
Above my head, there’s still time.
Under my feet, there’s still a pass.
Nov 29, 2013