I want to see matters before
the sun rises, in a way
like mad hatters -yet still analyzes.
I want to walk slowly in
view of the mountains,
with flocks of black starlings
murmuring – counting.
I need to retrace you with
scripts of profession, the
kind that embraces, encourages –
And here in my twisting, revolving
release- enlisting your
breathless entreaties – I cease.
That last stanza is fantastic! The whole poem moves with a fluid grace.