I was weaving, cushioning my cocoon
When your call; borne on the Westerlies
Across the deep sea swell,
Waves slaking the ever thirsting sands,
Sigh upon sigh;
Unravelled my silk.
As if rainfall; from the hard clay
Under David's stars,
Where friends sing around the camp fire,
Shadows shimmer and the desert spirit dances
From eye to eye;
Released the topaz of a frog's blink.
On the other side of the river,
Where we never cross;
While I taste the cool sweet water from a stone urn
And the sky becomes clearer
By and by;
They take snake venom to drink.
