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LIFE'S MISTRESS (Bruce Cockburn) Bruce Cockburn She is passing in a warm breeze Bars of light that cross the floor One smoke-gray, curled, tiny feather Skips aside By her middle hang the keys Made to open any door Even the one that lets in the cold wind >From outside She lives in a house of colour Guarded by cats three in number And one great dog of gentle manner In among the trees Silence Carries No apprehension here In the warm sun By the window sill I can just sit still And watch her go by... Queen of field and forest pathway Understands the speech of stones She weaves peace upon her loom Life's mistress (Contributed by =Ae= - July 2013)

    


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