Sunday, September 25, 2011
Have seen much darkness and light.
Gazed at almost all the stars on the dome.
They have been searching and searched for.
Ghoulish times have laid their glint on them.
Owlish wisdom has swept across.
And the Universe before them, arranges itself
into lines and lines of raw verse.
Which are picked up, polished as a fruit
and gifted to posterity
by this grandmother of poetry.