Please contact us directly to enquire about bulk discounts.Text from
Spring In The Lowlands by Denise Levertov.
Shout into the leaping wind
alone by spring lakes
On muddy paths, yellow grass
stamp, laugh: no one
to hear.
The water, water, dazzles;
dark winds
pluck its feathers
splash the hissing reeds.
Birches lean on the air.
Lean into solitude
you whose joy is a kite
now dragged in dirt, now
breaking the ritual of the sky.