Rocks and stones

Rocks and stones :
      sun beating down
           small fry pursued
      by ravenous birds

The iron in my blood
            is innocent : it feeds
on the fat of the land
      All good things
            out of the earth
            oxygen out of the air
the impulse to breathe
      to shape life into words
            and words into life

To give praise
            where due
            the taste of beauty
on my tongue
            the warm breeze
            on my cheeks
dandelion days
       when we carried
our dust across
      the Brooklyn Bridge

John Lyons

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