Читать книгу Bridges, Paths, and Waters; Dirt, Sky, and Mountains - N. Thomas Johnson-Medland - Страница 9

Poem

“Simply Heather”

Looking through the heather

the heart of the mountain

turns to azure cool depths

and pools of water.

Climbing stone on stone

moss wraps its limbs

around moist hardness.

A wind sails over the whiskers

of a seal sleeping on a pile

of seaweed. Why are we so

determined to remove ourselves

from this feeling of awe that

surrounds us in the wilds. I could

write these lines again and again.

The ocean comes in to lick the

shore, and we are embarrassed.

The sun screams out beauty in

its descending pinks and oranges,

and we cover our ears. Why do we

complicate the beautiful array of

mismatched and untied strings

by tying odd ends together?