Snowy Fees   
Snowdrop fashion   
What does the charming coulter meet?   
From the blue of distant lands.      
 
burning hot   
On the seats worn pale   
The long hat   
Counted his interludes.      
 
Not far away unwanted   
The weir with dry levels   
Remained stuck in Pierre Blanche   
In the name of reason.      
 
Were they in cahoots   
Anti-personnel mines in Laos   
Pierced to the bone   
The frail child from the water's edge.      
 
Mixing sweat and red earth   
The yellow river flowed   
Rapids at the edge of foam   
On the pink skin of Oz's friend.      
 
Of the voice   
With a flick of the hand   
The paddler brought back clarity   
Along the peaceful bank.      
 
Matching the look   
The silent jungle   
The dead could wait   
Their burial.      
 
And taunt the full moon   
Officiants of ancient cults   
Running barefoot along the path   
Barely caressed by dust.       
 
Picking up some rare food   
The poultry mingled with the entrails   
Pork killed the day before   
In Memory of the Great Spirit.      
 
The war rolled away its memories   
A rough sky   
Imprint of the helicopter's shears   
Carried high the eternal scourge.      
 
Hand placed on forehead   
You had to watch it   
The blond man with the miserable smile   
Grabbing life from his Irish harp.      
 
There was a rumor at the castle   
Near the hillsides with red vines   
At the Mélusine window   
Let his music flow.      
 
( Painting by GJCG )
 
1390