deep frozen fields – February 17

2.17

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.

———————–

Advertisements
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:

WordPress.com Logo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s