Tuesday, 22 January 2013

69 - A Single Season

These fields might seem contorted
Ranged in sleeping rows
But I'm just a passerby
Mistaken and misled
By brief winter glimpses

These fields go on without me
While I can only hope to see them flush with summer
I'm more temporary than spring
Less lasting than autumn

If I too were immortal
I'd be thoughtful as the mud
I'd chase the wind
And lie still as ice till I was moved

The weather's ruined and reshaped this land
But I'm a passing thing
The twisted pine will go on
Remembering or not

I have a single season
While these fields will pass through the umpteen to come
When your head swims and your legs give way
This is the ground to return to

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