The limbs are tired.
Tired are the eyes;
for the ears there has been
too much sound, too much
coloured noise, and tired,
too, this endless length of day,
this mad chase of sun, moon,
breathless wind, arguments
of cold and heat, dying stars
reborn as planets, circles
and ellipses, comet tails
foretelling doom that has
already come and gone,
to even more ends and then,
again, beginnings, the youth
of eternity in the trees, the seas,
the stirrings of time in waves
of dandelion seeds.
(c) Ella Wagemakers, 15.00 Dutch time (= 9 a.m. EST in the US)