Was it flight ? South up to North ? Now my Dublin visit imminent ? Yes. Flight from olives and streaked sky up to shadows, up to a colder dawn, a subtler feeling I have to chase meaning, pilot purpose, poised flight on to the next toe-step. Early riser, be silent but, and, write it down. ( I must not write it out in a verse. No. But see the beauty of the cold morning, the split consciousness in the warm cup of tea. )Up we go. Easy, pilot of this thought. Aisy. When will we arrive? Where? Thoughts are free. Still.
CATCH THE NIMBLE DAWN NOW IN A NORTHERN SKY
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