22 February 2009

a corner of a field

no hidden meaning in old cannonball

nor in silver quattie lying under grass

i find them and i pick up or i pass

they do not yield their story that is all

any may know today our scope is small

and history is not set under glass

for our perusal life is not a class

since each must fail as the old tree must fall

no wisdom here on this low mountain ridge

just a hard light as we wait for the rain

in patience but without that deeper hope

our fathers taught us we have passed that bridge

and on the other side found just more pain

with endless time longer than any rope

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