journal of a writing man
Work in Progress
"singing his way to heaven"
from my pillow the view
is of the tops of modest trees
and a windowed cloudscape.
in two passings of the sun
the trees became full of leaf;
the sky marched right to left,
west to east, momently playing
fairground games with scream-borne gulls
and then, falling quiet, lofted a lark,
singing his way to heaven.
John Bailey
Somerset, April 3 2002
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