Ma heid is buzzin’, fit to burst:
A jangle in the ears –
Like metallic pin-heads sounding
On tiny glockenspiels.
No migraine on the way this time,
My eyes have perfect sight.
I can hear the stars a-twinklin’,
Wrinkling silence, ringing light.
A little air, a calmer breath,
The stars retreat to space.
The background sound is birdsong now
In this, a quiet place.
The things I sense are now the same
As things that really are:
From here, to me, there seems to be
A distant, silent star.