Sundial, lagoon, aviary, amethyst, sapphire.
Of pleasant things think,
let my mind drink
before all’s forgotten in sleep.
Weird what memory may keep.
Find words to outwit a wizard,
hoodwink a witch.
Sometimes to find the best berries,
you must fall in a ditch.
What now do I discern in the stream?
My mind cannot translate
the strange hieroglyphs of dream.
The heat of high summer
hardens my brow,
and where am I now?
Seems on the lawn of a mansion I stand,
the shadow of a sundial I touch with my hand,
and wonder if it will make time move more slow,
for I do not want to go.
The forest I sought was in a myth
and not on a map.
Aware of the snare,
I evaded the trap.
It is all right, really.
I knew I’d never walk under those trees,
to climb up to those mountains,
but I have felt the same wind
as the wings of a hawk,
and I have sensed the secrets of water,
heard the silent ones talk.


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