The FoolDance.
Birdsong dances in my ears,
though still I worry, filled with fears.
Where are they now? My bleeding problems.
For beneath the ash trees,
Birdsong does dance.
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See AllWhen the muses leave, what is left but silence? The abysmal comfort, the unending sleep- when the muse leaves where I go to find it? With what rapture, what song- may I sing now in the day that lasts
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The wanderer, the seeker All are all the weaker For they fail to see the world’s telling brand The simple sound of one hand….
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