top of page

HOW LOVE COMES

                        

Sometimes in the night, riding

Sometimes on a raft of autumn wind

Sometimes in the longing spilled at the end of a full day’s sowing 

in the middle of a life when the field’s about to close for the night

 

Sometimes in the jaws of death a seed carried uncrushed takes hold 

to flower rife and golden in the fertile ground of the lives left behind

 

 

 

 

bottom of page