Monday, July 07, 2008

Higher on the Hill

Somewhere higher on the hill the wind is blowing
but you won’t hear it
Somewhere higher on the hill the moon is rising
but you don’t see it
Somewhere higher on the hill the dance begins
while you sit here
never mind, never mind
the wind will be here soon enough
and the moon dances whether or not anyone watches
higher on the hill.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

The Room Next Door

I become very still, listening.

In the room next door I hear singing. A voice, impossibly high and clear, carrying through the wall, reaches my inner ear. The emotions it expresses penetrate the barrier between us, notes piercing layers constructed to separate. I lose my sense of self. A sonic wind plays apon strung glass. Tinsel prisms reflecting tinkling moon beams twinkle. My being resounds in an orchestra of muted colour. Faeries dance along the edges of my consciousness. Taking up the siren song, they call imploringly. Pale arms reach, pulling with slender fillagree fingers. Tracing tendrils of longing breach my recesses. Ramparts fall away. I am exposed. The stiches binding my seams loosen, unraveling. A sigh of long held breath escapes shudderingly, I tremble, a plucked vibrating string of littering letters flutter in alphabet confetti lace tatting itself across my page, in wonder.

Enveloped, I become for just one instant, me.

Hppy WW!

Gemma Wiseman said...

How beautiful and mystical! I have visions of "Wuthering Heights" with this one!