Can’t trace this conversation —
Words fragment and fall
Into blue shadows by a white-baked wall.
Through shimmering spaces a single thrush calls —
A song when it’s over is no song at all.
Chorus and you know I long to feel that sail
leaping in the wind
and i long to see what lies beyond that rim
oh, ever-new lover and friend
sing me that love song again.
Time measured in summersaults
And flickering kids’ play —
Cross-world and southward it’s a fine summer day
Translucent life-span evaporates away
To bead on the cool grass in a cyclic ballet
Repeat chorus
/XI/