Читать книгу Out of the Ordinary - Kenneth Steven - Страница 6

When the beautiful world spread her branches

over and above your head

the sun curled the edges of your smile,

brought drops of shining when the moonlight fell

across the wide open land of your hands.

How tender the tomorrows in your gentle feet;

how fragile their miles that must not lose

nor fail the nakedness of touch, of breath –

mending the web’s thread, healing her skin.

In time you will put your life before the canon

and your hand where the trees are cut,

pouring long selfless love back for the wound

that bled you, opened out your world

when first your feet stood made below the stars.