Where the rising field
folds
under the light
horizon
taking the land out   up
into the sky
and you've no idea what lies
on the down *****
to a ditch
past a scattering
of cows;

beyond the lamp in the window
where the unshut curtain
hangs
as a figure appears pauses
bends to look at something     takes
it away and leaves
to read and read;

at the bus stop people
standing
waiting for a number
a shape

a co-incidence of time
and place;

and you've no idea who
or why:

this the axis
of the mind.

Where does the time go
When your holding those
You love?

Time flows out of you
Into the love. And the love

Only grows
As your time
Goes

In this dream

  you're walking in a wood
  stopping sometimes
  to pick up sticks

In this dream

  you're making up bundles
  tying them with twine
  to carry them home

In this dream

  I'm a couple of steps

  behind