Though supposed to be
somewhere else
he’s improbably there:
stretched out on his back
in a field of purple clover,
hands beneath his head,
feet crossed at the ankles.
Humming a tune,
he smiles as the wind
ruffles his hair.
Stretched out on his back
in a field of purple clover,
hands beneath his head,
feet crossed at the ankles,
humming a tune.
He smiles as the cool spring wind
ruffles his hair,
knowing he’s supposed to be
somewhere else.
By Red Haircrow
Related Poems:
Branches by Red Haircrow
Another year of days has passed,
days now longer and which the sun truly warms,
again branches blossom.
Looking up into their pale glory
I think to ask: has it been so long
since last we walked together
beneath greening trees and through cool grass
still wet with morning dew?
My heart knows the answer and my spirit the pain,
for even the gentle beauty before me brings no pleasure.
The brightest day is still dark without you.
–Written 18 April, 2013 to
Mahler’s Adagietto for Symphony no. 5,
on the journey from Fürstenwalde to Bad Saarow-Pieskow.
