A Triplet On Three

Three X crowned, stoned or scented, I roam
Across dried out dikes and along stinking ditches
Grass green, a whirling oak leaf lands on my shoulder

Three landscapes in Holland, a meadow, a forest, a beach
And on my boat shoes I sail over drops of dew, like salty tears
From the North Sea that whips my face with fine sand from an inner storm   

Three holy figures float through my mind, abide my time, fill my life

Take possession of my legs, make me run through the ebb and along the tide
Back home, the trees waving at me and you are there, wet to the skin....but for me....