I
am not quite become
a
twitcher of curtains
that
favourite sport of ladies
alone
and lonely
preying
on the small excitements
of
others
from
behind
slyly
lifted net curtains
I
do not twitch
but
boldly stand and stare
at
the unfolding story
of
my valley
high
I live
perched
on the side of the hill
too
many steps
leaving
my tobacco besmirched lungs
breathless
at the ascent
yet
more to climb
to
reach the place of looking
to
seek and know
perhaps
become without care
the
lazy glide of heron
wings
spread, riding the air
homeward
bound
I
know the hiding place
of
gold
the
sacred secret
of
where the rainbow ends
perhaps
in youth
I
might have gasped
donned
walking boots
and
stretched my legs
to
stand within the myriad light reflecting
motes
of magic
wiser
now
my
eyes have learned to watch
and
hold within
the
short lived endurance
of
nature and her dancing light
no
gold to grasp with greedy hands
but
a moment in time
made
beautiful
by
the relentless march of days
expended
in the living
Copyright © 2014 by Eryll Oellermann
Copyright © 2014 by Eryll Oellermann
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