On still days
with drooping flags
and contented leaves
Sounds somehow soaked in
between the crevices
of broad daylight
I sit as still as my body
Allows
shuffling feathers
a crow passes by
my hair
Lifts
and the clouds tip-toe
Along the rounded horizon
I don't see any
Evidence of spin
and even while held down
in place and time
I feel the thousand
mile-per-hour trajectory
Of every thing
and cannot help
but try to follow
Which way
it all goes.
Painting by Akseli Gallen-Kallela, ' Boy and a crow' c. 1884 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
