Strings

Festooned around
the mountains
apron
Strings of sparkling diadems
Vegetable strings
Growing wild on fragile stems
Illuminated by the sun
Paths of light
That the faeries spun
Underneath the bluest sky
Cloudless to
the naked eye
Staring this way
staring that
Shaded by a wintry hat
Dewi on his mixer
Rock dust his
A dry
stone wall
Grafting
it’s his will to do
Knarled his fingers
Several nails
broken some askew
And granite boulders
Soon will be
Laid to rest the bank to test
Which anyone can see.

The problem is so many
Don’t possess a way
They have eyes to see
But in fact they are blind
to factors they never will agree
To how their mind is missing
The fabric that is there
It’s all to do with knowledge
And no one deems to care