*
there’s another wind
below on the sea surface
dotting the vast blue
white crests running
one after another
gulfs and houses
sprinkled nearby
a few birds up here
as intermission to the
patient music of the wind
much grace weaved
a cape on my shoulders
and butterflies following me
.
.
.
.
.
.
*
a minute to sit
on a mountain rock
to breath the pines
perfume moved about
by the wind up high
clouds moving faster
than me walking
swiftly down hill
on myriads of pebbles
gathered a constellation
in the middle of the path
the steps of God
.
.
.
.
.
*
not sure if it’s a song
my ear gathers or a
story gently murmured
out of the blue water
sailing between ridges
innumerable notes
I listen to these secret
codes I lightly stare
at the creases an
opening on the
improvising
.
.
.
.
.
annamosca 