In a Field

i stop in a field      wipe my brow with my cap

still morning      no thunderheads      but a vulture

sailing low for what i also sense

nothing wasted in a cycle lacking solvents and crypts

reassured by the natural order of things

which will prevail always if not at first

 raise a fist      seeking reasons to be brave

lying back      finding a few

in a depth of sunlight and living