it does not start and stop but moves and if you do not move weather feels like movement anyway the eros of rain the distant dance of snow the blood of maple leaves and leaving a thunder of cellos made of maple weather like despair moves constantly is constant motion of molecules of matter earth in fact in motion the distant observations the close encounters the wanderings of weather cross tides and the slides of land the ambitious earth and if I stand thinking to be still I am not but am a kind of inertial moment beneath sky and sun o far away above below sun a seasonal engagement with the death of others a song and a silence is more than a song but may be less than a silence
Discussion about this post
No posts