The Field
Leaf-light shimmers in shushing trees,
and the zigzag shade of walls
slides beneath the arc of the planets
Lichen licked borders divide the land
bird shadowed, moss shrugged
And grass pours a verdant tongue
with criss-cross cresses
Emerging past gates,
flower-flecked and flowing
Hillock, crest and rock-riddled chasm,
divide land’s parcels apart…
Yet share the same green tide,
beyond the splittering beck
whose pools reflect remnants of cultures collapsed -
Half tractor, half trailer, half rust
Fruit-scattered paths gander under lime-washed gates
hung humid, over humps of daisy-danced rattle
And a clattered hasp swings
in the wood-peckered air…
Crackle-map distant fields
wrap the plunging hills in track-traced contours,
rushing beyond sight, into vanishing specks
until:
The grassy cachet drinks us back
to the beetle-beaded, seed nodding islet of field
scattered with bird’s egg sherd
and zinc-twinkled stone
Then on the march through juicy, mossing grass,
a dead tree plays shadow-hands across the field
chased by clouds
creating a moment
unseen