Monday, March 21, 2022

The Goldenrod Field



I remember everything,

how the snows flattened the goldenrod field

flat as the sea,

how the wind dried and lifted the swells,

thatch of past summer,

how the sun warmed the earth where we lay,

swept out to sea,

caught in the undertow

of finding each other too late,

adrift on the wreckage of winter.