Up the roof,
hooked ladder
on closing beam,
I watch this land
magnificent.

Over land and field,
flap its wings
on air of autumn,
I hear the buzzard
shriek on prey.

With the trees,
their leaves
do I fall,
to dream land;
ghosts at hand.

On the bell
it’s time to wake,
the clock ticks
breakfast;
early bird.

At the soil
my feet earthen;
marshy substance now,
of dirt and rot
from rotting leaves.

On the beat
of my old heart;
I let you in
on wave of wind;
my dapper hind.

At the shot
from fired bow,
your arrow
wallops hard,
straight into my heart.

In the air,
my soul now freed,
free from greed;
and matter
at hand.

On the ether,
I follow thee.
Listen carefully 
to every word
unspoken.

On the wind
do blow my breath,
in kisses long;
cherished cherries
of lip on lip.

A lovely song.

Vince
16–11–2016