Treblecleft textures

 What do you say to the twigs that fall?

The whispering Starlings shush shushing

The air and all

Hushing the reeds like a lullaby

The level's baby to sleep

Moses drifts up in a basket

Somewhere down the Euphrates

And the crocodiles all drown

In their own tears

The borrowed frowns of bucaneers

Postpone the hate of conquering years

In which enemies fall at their gate

But No speck of blood falls

In their spotless cities

No nagging horse neighs

Without the controlled rumble

Of cannon fire

And I am the tear

That rolls down the knoll

The fear in the belfry

When I hear the bell toll

Another and another soul

Yet elsewhere the sky is yellow and bold

And the bright blue sea shines like gold

And a penny is tossed splashes and ripples

The cats and dogs dash, the priest has his tipple

The hum and roll, the ebb and flow

Of cavorting children

And parents extoll the virtues of being virtuous

And how sadness lies like misty veil

Over the memory of this town

But some professors write

That all things come around

Again, as they sweep through cloistered halls

In black and white gowns