Oct. 24th, 2011

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

how fresh the world was complex and still strange

as we crossed shark-filled seas with little thought

of what bright magics in the clouds were caught

or what the cities past the mountain range

would have for us instead we sought the grange

the country quiet where oldest rules were taught

in plainest movement from old is to ought

from then to now where all we did was change

into clear selves who know the middle way

by just refinement of that youthful choice

made all rejoicing under blueest sky

for we who learn the paths and tracks of day

know it's no simple thing to have a voice

and far more difficult to keep an eye

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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