I give you this day
the magpies are telling it
you can't be seen your voice is soundless
I hear it is the roar of falling water and new-created worlds
(though nothing's created and you'd agree)
and you claim not to grasp it but
of course
you must as you stretch at ease across the sea
the storm petrols are here and there as well and telling it
you assemble this haze and dispel it
I am sweeping the clouds with fingers spread wide
you call me wise I call you
I can only call to you
on waves across the ocean
soundless near the sky and wingless
the robins are concerned are telling it
I give you the day you wait for me
There and then as I will be it will be done you will it so

J. Horne