song of the tortoise to the turtledove

dreams: things without substance
that sustain our very life
an ancient rogue tortoise am I
I go bearing the heavens
on my carapace  wrought
with dream patterns precise and true
oh turtledove   my dear winged song
you turn and turn on high
like the sun that kisses your wings
strew yourself like seed
seed dreams and clouds
oh wild little dove of mine
slowly   steadily go I   your tortoise
shadow singing throughout the land
there’s no room for you to fit with me
in this old hard shell   but  despite that
come and sit yourself on top of me
oh wild little dove   to take in my song

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2014


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