...just as a fish

On 10 December 2013 04:49, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

...just as a fish knows not of the sea

mindlessly thankful to presently be

none the less a trickle of smoke rises

triumphant as one with the natural cycles

of seasons as i too gaze into vacuity of clouds

above bare branches as autumn leaves

and a trickle plume of smoke in the still air

Cycles safely return  speaking in spirals

and left alone resolve themselves

speechlessness being a long forgotten virtue

just when we thought the trees would

never joy to hear our song again

it bounds out across ancient fields of stone

That there was room in the inn all along

and will welcome an abundance of sacred springs

and no matter that all the world's a stage

i too gaze and gauge the weather

often baffled by equivocating flux

spend the while camouflaged in a nest of grass

till morning sun warms and melts the past
~~~~~~~~~  ~~~~~  ~~~

Hmm... What did i say?  Haven't read it yet. Just thought to echo your smoke in such a mode as may compute.  Thinking not you might be in the inn and that you were most oft not.  Had just listened to a few hours of Gary Snyder reading, as he was then and is now and how i was reading him in the sixties, and despite the madness of the worldly stage sometimes the eyes moisten more readily from such to see such lifelong dedication and even learn he's a Taurus too, i never knew but should have in hindsight. Then to receive your message from the inn straight into this in reading your assumedly unassuming words within as poetry, since i learned from him that that's what plain unassuming conversational speech is and a whisper wordlessly suggested that perhaps that relates to your present process just as the morning sun is melting away the past, who knows, better than the one who knows?

Amazing, there have been 20053 atomic explosions here since i was born !  And i'm still here fit as a fiddle.  So on that note "be glad for the song hath no ending," (Incredible String Band). Just as a fish knows not of the sea, so are we, simply present.

Oh, did i write another 'thing'? I'll alert The Watch man i wrote you.  It's 4.45!

PS. YES, 'The Burren'.  Something else altogether, i.e. Sceal eile....

Stay warm.~~Martin.*