Hour By Hour, On Through Eve Poem by james watkin
Hour By Hour, On Through Eve
No better than, though stepped barefooted
A path of stone, mossy
One chaste, but clumsy vagabond monk
In day's soundless movement.
Are less gratingly noticeable
That weighed, otherworldly.
For its white cloud, white plume, dropped through.
Ghost moth, in white raiment.
Friday, October 28, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: calm
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8/29/2025 9:32:17 AM # 1.0.0
