Evenings of Damask
The evenings of Damask are falling

The youth of truth chest

Feeds a starling

With his heart.



A chosen man begged by the wayside

A horse came soon and died before him

And said eat.



The icy claws of earth are crawling

Upon my baby's brow and calling

Please come home.



The boy unlike the man was smiling

For gulleys, streams and hills would hide him

Like a swan.



A vagabond, a weaver warrior

Produced a loom, a cheese and chopper

And said choose.



My sandled feet are fleet like water

I kiss the limbs is Earthess daughter

A little tree.