Thursday, November 24, 2016

For the holiday …

Speech Alone by Jean Follain

It happens that one pronounces

a few words just for oneself

alone on this strange earth

then the small white flower

the pebble like all those that went before

the sprig of stubble

find themselves re-united

at the foot of the gate

which one opens slowly

to enter the house of clay

while chairs, table, cupboard,

blaze in a sun of glory.

(Hat tip, Leonard Gontarek.)

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