Harvest

.

And round and round the thought
Plunders her insides
First her heart
and then her head
And again her heart -
As she grapples with the facts -
The sounds
The voices -
And formulates dialogue.
Things she will say tomorrow
Words like pebbles on the river bed
Thoughts that make her stop for breath
As heaving and heaving she falls on to the couch
And hugs a cushion terribly!
And then the release suddenly - as though she was dipping her fingers
In a clear flowing stream. And there was nothing but the rustling of leaves
And gentle eyes that looked at her with diluted passion
And a crop of curly hair...

.