deep frozen fields – February 17


dry cracked deep frozen fields

wait for snow that may never

come to save them

at least not in time


I wait in my hotel room to watch

my son sing a song of sixpence

while the crows flee the fields

for warmer clime’s and mothers

mourn the distance.


it is a hard world where crunch

dried clots of earth can take

a farmer to weeping, and grace

appears oddly without asking.


This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.