The head of this hill
has closed its eyes
to sleep beneath thundering skies.
It is bristling with thistles,
whistling with birds,
and dreaming of honey and curds.
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Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
The head of this hill
has closed its eyes
to sleep beneath thundering skies.
It is bristling with thistles,
whistling with birds,
and dreaming of honey and curds.
A wonderer, a wanderer, a weaver of words
Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
We spent the weekend seeking birds and words
and studied their calls and their meaning,
their migration routes, etymology,
and other good grain for the gleaning.
At times they were shy and hard to corner,
veiled in a thicket or difficult thoughts
at times they were playful and singing in chorus
glory expressed in each one as it ought.
A wonderer, a wanderer, a weaver of words
Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
I will go gentle
into that good night,
retiring with tenure
from the un-tortured
poets department.
A wonderer, a wanderer, a weaver of words
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