Picture: The Fox by Franz Marc
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“Alert.”
You call me out
And deliver a message.
Untamed hound, silent as cold creeping,
Whisky-ambered,
Unseen and unforeseen citizen
Of this beloved city.
No memories of the jolly forest
And its to-you-domestic fragrances;
No worries about steel boulders
Sliding loudly on hardened ground.
You’re only here
Now, for a swift encounter.
Weird lights radiate yellow and orange;
Humans stroll around
In search of spirits,
In order to lift their spirits.
“Align to your wildest intuition,”
You tell me.
“Be here,”
You tell me.
“Yet, follow me
To the last drop of blood pumped in your heart,
And beyond.”
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Herons