Zimmer Frame
Out of the horizontal,
your default position,
and the slightly amphibious nature
of the arduously seated,
you rise, with helping hands -
chest forward, bum tucked in -
to where the window is unfrosted.
Out there, the light behind them,
these giants swaying decorously,
trailing graceful limbs.
You know these things.
A trumpet sounds in Elfland,
seven leagues away.
David Callin
If you have any thoughts about this
poem, David Callin would
like to hear them
