(VII) words

From behind a niqab of words
I observe life as it slumbering flows
spread out on a leaf of hushed voices
a humming of thoughts disconnected
roots of a thorny acacia
set in the lukewarm seed of rock
left to wither in the winter sun
while through eyes of needles
of clouds there flies single an eagle
lost in a gust of the stale wind
by a moon ray unusually silent

Guido Comin PoetaMatusèl