Of the Pinwheel II

Softly, satin streaks soak into the sky;
Gently, green-grey grass grows to left and right;
The pebble-powder path passes it by,
And the paper pinwheel plays in the light;
The steps I take send up a clotted cloud,
Of anxiety, patience, and of trust;
My world is silent but my heart so loud,
For it calls to you, though it choked with dust;
But I am calm, waiting, searching for you,
For I too am listening for your voice,
Calling for me, across the mottled blue,
Until it reaches me and all rejoice,
When apart from you, this world is surreal,
Until I meet you under the pinwheel.


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