The life inside a life:
The thistle with a worm inside,
A blossom with no color of its own.
A person’s calling
Is unpainted wind.
Inside a life, earth turns,
The old sing.
A boy can hear Blood verses
Down in the petals….
–in memory of Harry Martinson
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 
“unpainted wind.” Genius. And from a later post, “crows talking Russian.”
I absolutely love the minds of poets, writers and poetic writers like you, Steve. Thank you for sharing your gift.
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