i walk the road leading into the field.
it is lined with
a row of now leaf barren trees,
a groomed wind-block
on the southern side.
in the north
an empty field,
the harvest was taken
some months ago.
i do not know
what grew there.
what was sown and
harvested were never questions
i asked.
now,
the field is lined
with tractor marks
that have collected rain water.
in the last light of the day
the frozen pools appear as glass,
as if the sky broke
and shattered downward.
i stand silently and observe
the last of the daylight
which is caught momentarily in the
frozen surfaces.
i watch the day as it
moves with haste
and witness the approaching night
that seems too eager
to arrive.
i wonder how this field
will be
in a few months;
when the snow and rains have stopped
and the earth dries.
when the seeds are spread
and the deer mark their
crossing path once more.
how will it be
when the wind-block
refills its branches
with a green
only nature can perfect?
how will time move
then?
how will its passage appear
here in a way that mirrors
nature, but also seems displaced
and removed slightly
so that symmetry will
never truly work in this place?
what creature will
look on?
a human, no doubt;
awkward and beautiful,
equal parts fear and love.
standing as one does
when in awe, when perplexed,
when confronted
by the subtle shifts
in the natural world
that we recognize within ourselves.