the passing time
for lasting souls
of fuller times
and greater loves
Just empty rooms
just space to fill
the wind blows through
moonlight glows in
for months on end
no curtains are drawn
no floors are swept
and bullock’s heart
just grows and crawls
no sounds are heard
but howling wind
and twice a day
grandfather clocks
it’s grey and white outside
and forest green and morning blue
and all there is behind the doors
lies still, inert, a quiet hue
No empty rooms
no space to fill
wood cracks again
fresh air comes in
yes, once again it smells like spring
and so it wakes
the spirit of things
chairs come to life
and beds, and stairs
mirrors, linen,
trays and silverware
instilled with joy
by gaze and touch
Yes once again the spring walked in








