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.
Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University
“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.