barren shapes

dry bone dessicated raku crackled glaze the old wrinkle lines of a mothers face they drain the salty marsh of ruined days with bags of phone calling card moans they send their dreary eyes beyond yours deep into the desert of complete cleansing straight past the waste filled sand dunes groomed with the rake facing folly in june it was soon a lake filled with clear winter cold it came from somewhere beyond the last season like a wind picked it up from important reasons laid it down in the barren shapes of this land bringing back the life that could not stand with the one leg perch of an egret in the fog the dew was a blue heron sending songs along where hearts hear the words forward in the maze a dry bone desicates racku crackled glaze