Monday, September 29, 2008

Monday Prompts

It is eighteen years to the day

In lamb fields, on dotted slopes

I see a playground, an ant-scatter of children

How do we know we aren't already dead?

Oh I have danced the sky as feathers

The life that I have is all that I have

The Farmer's Bride

There was a steady wind and the sky was pale

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the leaning trees

This is my country!

It must have been too cold for him, his soul gave out

Love's dances, Love's retreats, advances

And I was green and carefree, lying in soft fields

He with footstep heavy, her with sunny hair

When I was thirteen or so. green

But one by one we must move on, through the valley of pain

No comments: