Here reigns a midnight sun.While the light
lingers in the air
An angel crosses our vision.It cannot be
rare.
We see ,here and there,gaping, cold entrances
Into Escher's labyrinth,innocent and ripe.
Memories just revert to type.
They become reversed as on the negatives-girls
take chances
And flower.Under tree joining hands.
We communicate through silence.
Lonely cranes float east,every morning,
We sing,cross over boundaries,morning,
And steal away,with our heads cocked
Heavenward,Our doors were never locked.
At the exchange counter,we submit fives and
dimes
As though they were gifts
from faraway lands.