From eye ope
to eye shut,
and eye shut
to eye ope,

the sun doth rise
and cuts its arc
the world round
through varied kinds of skies,

and then the stars,
our sister worlds,
and our bright smiling moon,

and we,
we cut our path
on this, our earth,
in great big, wide-seen eager strides,

or else with those invisible
we make whilst
in the confines
of our warm and sturdy
self-spun, and obscure cocoon,

emerging more grown
and more powerful,
be it late
or be it soon.

This entry was posted in Autumn, Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Seasons, Winter and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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