Walking
the Sky
"If
I say you are the middle of the earth
and as hot.
will my wistful blowing not cool
the wavering flame,
or the sun that birthed
your center?
If
I judge the sky in its light
and cross its bridge,
will I find you there in the cool
of the rainbow
or in the spark of the stars
blinking their reproach?
And
when the glow of this earth
dims
will I walk the path of clay
on hinds feet
and laugh on the peaks
of your mountains?
©
Harley
