The Thinking Jar

O come to sweetly

I’ve something for you

It has its own color

A red or a blue

It has it own motion

A rise or a fall

Though to anyone else

It is nothing at all.

So come to me gently

We’ve nothing to do

Nothing to speak of

That’s false or that’s true

Or painful to keep

A deed or a death

And to give it to you

Is as easy as breath

The moon is a rider

That cloud is a steed

The night  is their journey

The stars are their greed

For the night is with words

And comes in our time

Without any reason

And only with rhyme

Then come to me swiftly

We’ve something to be

Not happy in length

but intensity

And secret as grass

and as wide as groan

And smooth as a snake

Unwrinkling a stone.