Dateless

Dates mean nothing. The poems are just ordered as I please. I believe I still have a mostly accurate account of dates elsewhere.

Monday, August 29, 2022

"Twisted round a finger"

 Twisted round a finger

It came to me, as if a dream, amusing anecdote

A twisted little finger danced around the rites of rote

Never could it bother me

Just set the tone and let it free


This life to create and the next animate

All the loving that sings in the wind

The wind's potentate, as he learned to relate

To the sighs through the trees, simply grinned


The twisting round a finger is a measure of extremes

In which the one is bonded but the other bound, it seems



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