sounds of shallow puddles
and funky swallows
a bird hears loops,
and swims a spinning spiral
this one
alive in all pulsing fullness
and striving, like
feathered leaves
to move , against the force
upards forever, crooning, ballooning
and leaving the silent garden
to spawn
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The words of this place are selected from a swarm of warmly moving currents, Each from an always cycling rhythm not unlike the rhythm of your life, bound by logic, and fit closely to the patterns of weather natural light water and the rocks , only sometimes as stuck and jagged, and sometimes alive with asweetcrazy buzzing and sometimes starkly apparent. I wish you love and do so with vowels and consonants dissonance and consonance. { L. F. }
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