Thursday, 25 February 2016

Giant Leap.


There’s a stone on the step outside the front door, it’s next to a coal dark piece of larva.

There is a dip on the surface of the stone and this morning it is full of rain water, a puddle from the night.

I will drink from it, as if it were the cup of gods.

It isn’t, it’s just a stone on the step outside the front door.

Next to a night dark piece of larva that looks like coal, until you pick it up.

The night’s puddle is almost heart shaped; it is three sips deep.

It is sweet, with just a feint edge of stone.

It has been a long time since I drank the rain.

On the step there is also a small piece of wood; it is a knot of wood that forms a rough ring. I try it on.

It fits only the little finger; I am wedded to the forest.

Moss grows on the step, around the knot; it doesn’t want to let go and so I place it back in it’s own knot print.

The day is beginning, this step is the first.

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