Rain Over Field
a drama of grey clouds
humors the wail-whipped wind--
and casts forth a crying, fickle curse,
which coaxes the quick of plants
into lacework orgies
of spriggish love.
under height's misty maze,
the nudity of worms
wriggles its feed-me dance
until it becomes far too clear
that the lack-of-sun craves
seeds of hope.
but the torpid drops splatter
into ruts too doubtful,
pathways slain to passage,
secret roads, hidden in
the urges of things, which no longer believe
in the tenderness of water.
==========================
7/19/25 tried to fix
7/30 .. such a bad poem, chopped it way down, refigured
No comments:
Post a Comment