Today the wind harp was singing;
at times a chord, at others a ripple
and great long silences.
My inner self resonates
in very much the same way.
Yes: and I feel connected;
No: a black fog swirls around me;
Maybe: an endless waiting.
But the harp is governed
by the wind, which, as we are told,
“Like the Spirit, bloweth where is listeth.”
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This poem seems to presage 'For Margaret' and it seems was written just a few days before her death. Both poems are very moving and thought-provoking. Thank you Diana.
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