rain earth cold but once the summer sun and your eyes plus birdsong I remember (for Tara)

all the time through both the nocturnal wild and the structured parts also. cold, wind, ice, and sleet. grey, dark, opaque, and even rueful. the old church and its tombstones the roof crying on the sides and the tears not flowing but racing down to the cemetery earth. poor old field mouse is probably even saturated w/that and also sadness. where did the summer and the sun of the summer go to?- once I think, there were purple and yellow wildflowers that lived on the edges of fields,- fields verdant and inside the woodland passageways great healthy vines sometimes climbed trees old and full, so full of character and warmth, of nuance and energy, robust w/the stories and spirit of the good things of the countryside.

I think, also, that your eyes were brown and spoke of many things, things of now and of ancient continents. the other souls,- well their eyes only appear brown from a distance…something to do w/the light or angle. but their eyes are green and blue and grey, things the world lauds and celebrates,- but the world is wrong, the world has everything backwards, for it is your brown eyes that are above the rest and that make the world settled and whole, no? yes. of course. I can see. you tell me about the owl and the birds and look upwards much of the time. and the birds. they always sang for you. against reason and logic I would say they never sang for me like that when i was there alone. birds and butterflies, little streams and water washed stones. I think we stopped there and watched everything and the living dream of the world was much better than it is today.