Over Poem by Rebecca Stansfield

Arguments unfolding, where what is more told,
tears-idle, what they mean,
on departure sail.
Moving forward until the morning they,
forget-harping,
moving away.
Following into tomorrow,
ready, set.
bag of sorrow.
Flushing, sinking, walking herds,
herds of cows, and flocks of birds,
watching as they manifold,
the lips of the morning animals,
what are they telling?
Can it be told?
Hold your solo-recognition,
share it within the world,
rise in the mind, blood in the heart,
warm air the street next door,
the stories telling on the moor,
are the arguments done?
Where did the arguments sail to?
This morning or was it yesterday?