Sunday, March 21, 2010

I want to right a poem, but keep thinking of the word quiet and how overused is that?

Maybe instead:

boots on packed dirt
dogs barking
speeding past my turtle pace

trees and stone command attention
navigating through shades of brown
birds spotted above the treeline

huddled over plates
wind returns a plate of field greens
to the field

calves clamor for attention
oil in his hands takes away the pain
kissing into the night

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