– 3 –

Morning Walk

On a bright morning of winter I walked up the bitumined highway
to forget the fret of the fetters of down-tending detail,
of diurnal subsistence escape delight-dimming screen.

The morning air was full of the cries of humanity active,
red sparks rising up to the whiter light of silence;
the eternal mountains, aloof, maintained their endless procession;
like tender bloom on curve of immature peach-skin
clung fugitive frost to the foot of winter-green gullies;
shone, sun-glossed gold and silver, the satiny tussock.…

I kissed the chains that bind, the body to bounty of earthly scene.