Csaba

I am writing this
For a guy I know
He's very cool
The type is true
Daisy chains and pipes that flue
Through his big literary brains
Like geese that flew, like winter rains
And summer hazes
As Summer fields of daisies
And swallows following mazes
Through and through
A deep brain
Like a deep river rumbles over rocks
But is silent in its secrets
It holds in its depths
Its surface is still
It is cool

And immediately we know
It as our other selves
Like a mirror
A quivering river's reflection
Showing the imperfections
But the figure
Is walking away
With the black crows
The ravens road
Down the green valley pathway