Wednesday, October 08, 2014


It's a flash of movement
that leads us
from people to the skies;
men move like talons
on the road, brown,
shrivelled ,
worries sharp on their brows
clawing firm ground.
Predators and preys
they move
in strides,
trots or saunters in
search of each other in
life's lonely patch

every drop of sun
cruises earth
penetrating her thoughts,
lingers on the dew drops,
and rises as vapour while
earth dances into his arms
on her diurnal
path, day and night,
her black and white
dreams anchored on the sky


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