I Shall Paint my Feet Yellow
I shall paint my feet yellow
and stand like the kestrel
on a wild, windy branch.
You shall breathe wet fog
around the sharp hawthorn.
The dawn will help us
on with our coats, and the sun,
like some wrinkled pre Columbian woman,
will tread tiredly across the sky
stalked by clouds of thin rain.
This then shall be our morning.
And as berries slip into redness
the wild clematis will stroke its beard.
We will walk the edge of the field together
between fences of chattering blackbirds
and the chuckling of waist coated magpies.
In the evening tall trees
will lift the moon onto their shoulders,
into position. Ready for the stars
to begin their bright parade.
We will drink coffee and I
will wash my feet. |
