Sorrow is the next word in the bouquet- <br />Heart wounded without <br />Reason in the streets of the mortal ling <br />Grey: <br />Then you saw us as the exhibit <br />On the granite of the stone, <br />Like the dog starving through the weathercock <br />To fetch <br />Himself the bone: <br />And abounding, thunderheads perpetuating the <br />Thirst of windmills all across <br />The unmentionable crop: <br />It is how we happen here, faceless looking <br />Down into the indescribability of <br />Lake Tahoe, <br />Hoping that our clock will stop- but it doesn’t <br />And the crow sings <br />(how can she do that) - how can she <br />Describe the unmentionable to the already mentioned <br />Kings?<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lake-tahoe/
