Poetry writes us,excited us
into the silence between the words
Trees move us
to the roots of knowledge
The depths and the heights of perception
Music moves our blood
Dances it into circulation.
Later we dream of moving through The enchanted forest
The woods where nightingale sing
We see the sun sends Shadows to dance across even the brick built walls of the factory
Elusive
Productive
Conducive
To muses
How my heart sings 