Harley is a continuity, a song that we recall.
The transitions in his life are not crossroads chosen.
Harley's life maintains, a path continued easy on.
It is the wind that shifts and the songs that change.
Harley measures the wind against his jacket,
rhythm-walking songs like a story changing shape.
He does not stop, and start again, as if to find a way.
Harley maintains, having been, and going easy on
to another song, coming on the wind.
Harley shapes his life with easy strokes,
seeing in the wood what waited there for him,
working large strokes and letting detail
come from what we wish or had almost lost
until the song came back upon the easy wind.
The colors in Harley's life are gentle light,
filtered through long stories and old songs.
The dawn is old, and sunset new, and night
is gentler still, with echoes on the wind.
Harley is a quiet song, a gentle wind,
an echo when we listen, still; a continuity.
The transitions in his life are not crossroads chosen.
Harley's life maintains, a path continued easy on.
It is the wind that shifts and the songs that change.
Harley measures the wind against his jacket,
rhythm-walking songs like a story changing shape.
He does not stop, and start again, as if to find a way.
Harley maintains, having been, and going easy on
to another song, coming on the wind.
Harley shapes his life with easy strokes,
seeing in the wood what waited there for him,
working large strokes and letting detail
come from what we wish or had almost lost
until the song came back upon the easy wind.
The colors in Harley's life are gentle light,
filtered through long stories and old songs.
The dawn is old, and sunset new, and night
is gentler still, with echoes on the wind.
Harley is a quiet song, a gentle wind,
an echo when we listen, still; a continuity.
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