Poetry

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Whilst on the land,can vision's keep on falling back too where one may say;
Life was then that other day,more passion for the Maker's clay;coming
from where that settled time begun,through other door's people dealth
with other chores,where thought's were spent and sometimes plenty lent,
listening for that voiceless sound that visions could themselves propound,
any place can much convey;in a restful restless way, words themselves can
only score;when one's Spirit hope's for more,and time itself just lasts a day,
it calls too be where Life is free, and hope is all eternity;GOD will it see
excedingly said THREE Amen it be.
Joe.

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