The Irish walk



Close your eyes

and hear the whisper
of the wind
on your feathers
Feel the whip
of the sand on your neck
his journey between your toes
before it bows
before the fiery grass
Taste her tickles
she will kneel down before
the daring bite of ocean
merging with a shy kiss
from a warm summer sun
Can you smell; the never-distant rain ?
A storm, a stag
among more knowledge guides
the pleasure become pure
on your dirty skin
and the guitar is tuned
for its first wise song

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