Fragmented Cloud on a Sunday Morning Walk, Odin 12 Options

[saore]

Fragmented Cloud on a Sunday Morning Walk

for Emily Dickinson

She keeps calling
to blame the bees
that do not hide
from comfort, or from pain.

In the middle of blue skies
I see a cloud so old
it wants to sail to Timbuktu,
to Timbuktu and rain.

No time is soon enough
for calling, calling.
She’s not at home, she left.

Where is Eden?
Is there a hammock there?
Can we sing and never cut
a paper tree?

From the top it almost looks
like fancy food, fancy food
brushing the palate.