Can’t trace this conversation Words fragment and fall Into blue shadows by a white-baked wall Through shimmering spaces a single thrush calls A song when it’s over is no song at all
And you know I long to feel that sail Leaping in the wind And I long to see what lies beyond that rim Oh, ever-new lover and friend Sing me that love song again
Time measured in summersaults And flickering kids’ play Cross-world and southward it’s a fine summer day Translucent life-span evaporates away To bead on the cool grass in a cyclic ballet