Yeah I might speak so long
I’ve never been so wrong
Yeah I might seem so strong
Yeah I might seem weak so long
I’ve never been so wrong”
We sit late, watching the dark slowly unfold:
No clock counts this.
It is midsummer: the leaves hang big and still:
Behind the eye a star,
Under the silk of the wrist a sea, tell
Time is nowhere.
We stand; leaves have not timed the summer.
No clock now needs
Tell we have only what we remember:
Minutes uproaring with our heads