I sang my harp on the sun's deck Here at the water in the cool unblossomed year And the light notes clung at my hair roots Like bird cries gathering.
All the day's time leaned Into lengthening shadows And moments clung like fresh leaves On water.
Wind crossed the pond Leaving stripes and crosses As though it rolled and cast down Cast down its shape for vision.
Wisteria hung for lavender In a blossom of perfume. And on the stone a toad Settled in sunlight.
Is this saturation of senses enough? Living together between a time frame, We creature and non-creature And I among them.
Susan McCord Contact Magazine,1965
To communicate is the beginning of understanding
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