The wind orates poems.
\nRooms sing with secrets.
\nPuddles return escaped moonlight.
\nStars dissolve,
\nand where they go
\nI have no inkling.
\nI am perhaps a throwback,
\na wildling.
\nWhen I grow up,
\nI will be wise, I said.
\nBut the circumference of the sky
\ngrew faster than I could.<\/p>\n
There was no answer,
\nto anything I asked.
\nThe world filled my hands
\nwith agates, ice, rain, tears,
\nwings and spiders.
\nThat\u2019s all I have, it seemed to say,
\nexcept you,
\nand mysteries involving black holes
\nand outer space,
\nand children shaped
\nout of an energy called joy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The wind orates poems. Rooms sing with secrets. Puddles return escaped moonlight. Stars dissolve, and where they go I have no inkling. I am perhaps…<\/p>\n