Clumps of Grass

Such ruth and tears; and we toil life, afraid to fly; and we wire
Love, afraid to breathe; and the “vale of tears”—a mirror
Haunt; and clumps of grass speak a myth. Such grace and
Poise, a whistle cry; and lissome hands, a tear caressed; and

Often love, I ponder blue: the rill of pain: a sorrow true; and
Sorely worn, the pegs of love: a shadow red: the rites of blood;
And shattered wind, afflicts the soul: the seat of light: a
Summer cold. Such grit and flame, a creek of coals; and snare

To heart, a deadly rose; for magic fades, the shades of grief;
And deep the mind—to harvest peace; and sky to breath, the
Wheel of sight: a forest dark: a falcon flight. Such root and
Pain, a filter wise: an ether drop: an ocean cry; and veil the
Light, the darkest grey; and soothe the soul, a cryptic ray; and
Barrels leak, a wisdom tear: a unit vague: a startled deer.