...there starts the magical land...

Come back with me

Come back with me to the lazy rivers
that curl inland through dusky shadows,
past rock pools fringed with pink flowers
and the cliffs where the falcons nest.

Enter the silent caves or fish with me
on the lakes covered in swans. Look
where the heron is stalking upriver
by the brackish waters!

starts the magical land. From now on
we have to move airborne.
Pass along the scent of the fuchsia hedge,
take a left turn through the humming
wild bees' music, and follow
the wind to the beach.
Will waves remember?
Do clouds recognise?
Nothing can change us.

I'll teach you forever how to pop the pods
on the bladderwrack seaweed,
dig up lugworms from sands for baits,
and catch a crab without being nipped.

We, the white souls
are drying our wings on the rocks,
Let's ride the winds together,
run with the sandpiper, the oyster catcher,
the lonesome curlew!

Poetry by Scharlie Meeuws
Read 419 times
Written on 2006-06-23 at 23:42

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