Notes off the page

The dog fox howls as a cold breeze brings life to the wind chimes and many times I have heard the owl, so knowing, hoot in despair and I am with them on the border line where time has marked the crease,
When all struggles cease and peace prevails
when the last ship sails to take you there
where the white light never fails to astound you.
we stand silently around you and the last horizon salutes the passing of your day.
Old
is three hundred and twenty rings in the falling of a tree and the dog fox barks
as if to agree
and we’re not yet nor ever will be
ready.
The song goes on for so long and stops
and we’d pull out all the stops to play it again.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.