from Stepping Crow
Stepping crow. Moon at half mast.
Dawn horse, horse, blanket and mule.
The fool knows something you don’t.
Stepping crow. Both feet in the boat.
Books stacked up, and nowhere to store ‘em.
Decorum is spontaneous order.
Stepping crow. Gone north of the Border.
Magic in motion and magic at rest.
Only divest, no need to announce it.
Stepping crow. Locked in from the outset.
Feet in the boat and we’re already rowing.
I don’t like thinking, I like already knowing.
No comments:
Post a Comment