North Wind, blow your aspen leave once more
And tell me if it reaches the shingle shore
Where life is replete with its pristine nature:
Where the sea kale copes with the sea winds
Rising to a ridge of a crest, valorous and bounteous
True blue to the whimsical temper of sea love;
Where the yellow horned poppy blooms in the sea mists
Standing on a cliff, facing seaward, toward the horizons
Skybound, spellbound, fluttering the golden petals ever –
And if you see the brown hare hopping around the shore,
Tell me the castle east of the sun west of the moon is there.
You must be logged in to post a comment.