already madness moves its mouth
to cover half my soul, its breath like
a snowstorm, making my world cold
I hear the cranes call over icy
fields… come, come little ones
take from the palm of my hands
a little honey, a little sun
I wish to be a nameless woman
way out on the hillside, or a cloud
in the arms of a favoring wind
This has to be one of my favourites here ❤️
That means a lot, thank you.
You’re welcome 😊