#1159 - the gathering

 

1159

5.iii.23

4.64

the gathering

for ghost writing

 

run out of day to do

(after the storm, spider time)

 

everyone building

so kip

 

and next make out the paths

 

these ruins of sunlight inhabited

 

the rain that lies in wait

for time

where all of us adore

 

when out to purpose

pick up sticks

bright of breeze

mildly

full puff

heavy tread

at hillheight

days to the weather gone

 

the old skins now in op shop bales

surplus

 

outgrown

but days outlive

 

as light tricked from the turning star

so here shone wrinkled with

 

the gathering

the broadcast

 

a glory that mountains range

and somewhere find the legend – read

I too partake the turning

 

then come upon my home

much altered

 

now others

all paws and touch

 

still mine

though otherwise possessed

 

then pass like a superstition

so no one must have known

 

and this is a day among the years

 

still as we stand

it’s round all go

 

and go again

and go again

 

here’s this our little world

 

there’s no other place to haunt