Glass in Your Feet
Deaths head moth, and a honeybee, and the flightless birds with the useless wings.
In the diamond mines of the Indian head, beneath the sawdust moon with the frozen rings.
Mastodons and hummingbirds in an endless loop on the windy plain.
Chestnut mares and the bison herds and the poison toads in the sugarcane.
There are rainbows as the light refracts through the glass in your feet.
Blue and green as the wind attacks and the glaciers retreat.
Death's head moth and a honeybee and the flightless birds on the ground so cold.
Maple leaves r gently falling from the eaves, silver tongues on the golden road
Autor(es): Eric Johnson