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Robin Grey

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Robin Grey

These Songs Were Begun One Winter

This song was begun underneath the thumb
Of one who's thickened by the cold.

Listless, longer, bolder than perhaps he ought to be.
Forgive quiet and then lie down here lengthways on the floor,
Hoping that the blood with flow again,
Hoping that the blood with flow again.

Easily forgot, what was lifted and first felt, an anchor to the blood,
Howling at the moon as the stars are falling fast.
Leaves, Wind, Earth and Rain, we look forward to look back

These songs were begun one winter on a window thick with
Frost her finger drew a map of all possibilities