mr.mincemeat@syteka.UUCP (mr.mincemeat) (11/16/83)
Sun through the screendoor snake in the pond
An ant a clean creature is walking on my wall
A gentle breeze in my young trees
Bombers on the way.
mr.mincemeat
{ucbvax,hao}!{menlo70,hplabs}!sytek!tomsmr.mincemeat@syteka.UUCP (mr.mincemeat) (03/20/84)
Every spring I am new again
The world swings closer to the sun
And I swing further still-
The planet braves the frozen depths
The darkest, freezing, draining cold
But it is huge, small against the night
But nonetheless immense;
It stays warm by its own will.
My own body small and cooling
Endures the long night poorly
In the faraway winter, lost among the stars
I nearly fade out,
My heat is small and cannot stand alone.
I seem to have made it again however,
The planet seeks the mother sun
And I of course ride along,
Willingly indeed on this leg of the journey.
The planet stilrs little, it knows this circle well
And is massively indifferent,
Or nearly so- certain springly flexures
Denote its mild pleasure;
My own awareness is more direct-
I obviously haven't frozen, out there in the dark,
But moving back, coming home, night into day,
I am alive again at last;
The planet will not die of cold
But I always nearly do,
But we are coming home again
And I am coming whole again.
mr.mincemeat
{hplabs, menlo70, zehntel, sdcrdcf}!sytek!toms