Tag: Poetry

there is a
field
the crops passed
many seasons
ago
here and there
saplings have
sprouted
some thick
with seasoned
bark
from many
winters
around the field
is a stone
wall
it is
crumbling
and lost among
moss
and bramble
and small trees
that have found
their way
to the light
shooting up around
the stones
woven amongst the
rocks
hanging from
rotting
fence posts
and tangled up
in the
long grass
is rusted
barbed wire
camouflaged
against its
surroundings
it catches clothing
and
snags skin
leaving rust stained
lines
within flesh
as a
reminder
of its presence
the field is
all but
inaccesible
one can only
look on
through the various
seasons
and wonder about
the crops
that were once
planted
there many years
ago
one can only
look on
at the trees
that have leapt
up now
left
to their own
way
to their own will
without plow
or foot
to disrupt
them

i take you in
now
in memories.
breathing wisps
of your hair
that no longer cary
scent.
i take you in
now
and move you
through me,
washing my soul
of your
memory.
this is no
longer loss.

the first snowfall
is melting
though this
is not spring
one could be
deceived
but the air
and sky
hold only winter
i desperately
want spring
i crave it
more than ever
spring holds
such promises
i want
these promises
i want
longer days
i want sweat
upon skin
and intense
hunger
i want you
to arrive
to be held
by spring



so much here
in this bowl of
soup
resting on a cold
countertop
the curtains
are still closed
late autumn
works its magic
somewhere beyond
them
months or years
ago
it is summer
and we entangle ourself
in the shade
only coming inside
to
press
our bodies
against the warm
countertop