let’s take this outside

friend, well there is the country side,
over by the marriage of the sky and earth,
ready widening our prospects and horizons,
bidding us forth at any time, any place:

when we are there, then we can cry
out with rage at the blue moon
if she won’t come out and sing,
drunk with the stars the blackness of night—

it was her, you know, I met up there,
where the words we know glow
as we speak them, one by one,
beat by beat, now, like a sun

rising, each time life is born;
remembering what’s forgotten we renew
our unwavering oaths to live,
right with might or nil.

this morning’s sparrow song, I’ll bet
tells the tale of our adventure—
as does every melody of its time—
and she sings to hers like a queen

motioning to the winds to fan her—
o that the sparrow knew when she called
what she carves out of our hearts
of romance so brave before the world.

and when the golden disc is full,
well passed that wide horizon,
and she flies away, let’s listen
to the breadth of then sun’s light carrying on,

taking over us and our tiny sights,
with its glare emboldening both brown
and green, and young and mean,
to their heights and faithful end.

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