If snowless earth is the cost of winter sleep then I gladly shall trade these crescent moon dreams dark ripples on a pond of night yes gladly for a drink of strawberry water dash through spinning kaleidoscopes of colour: dandelion yellow sunlight fields of growing greenv o buzzing butterflies tell, o tell soon the whispers of lips soft grown now hills hide, divide how many more must I climb, short yet distant beyond, a partial mirror of infinite depth and I walk within I am partial mirror, also colours not contained in waiting, waiting dark, spread, fly and dazzle in deep fountain of our eyes |