A signal sometimes reaches

By | 6 November 2026

High ceilings

Through the wastes of history
a signal sometimes reaches.
What was it in the night?

An ancient wall in leopard’s spots
curtained land
safe below
nascent clouds.

It was a good dream,
the blue haloed fire
of your kitchen stove
in the early morning.

Deep things may depart,
but leave their happy print.
Gentle and sure they
open up, fonts of the sky.

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