If I ever knew
I never really knew
why a swallow
never made a summer
or
why bluebells were so
blue.

.
I never knew.

What sense our senses make
of a still and cold high mountain lake,
or
a spiralling eagle rising on a thermal,

is it that it
is not for me to know but to see the glory
to hear the story in a whisper.

I trail the desert fox
and
meet scorpions
basking in the heat,

I never knew
that
scorpions do
that.