Laying in the Grass

Sent to the valley, all lips and money,

to fetch a colored gem.

He ordered.

'Send down the troops,

burn the wheeling shifting skies.'

For quiet is the next new thing.

-

Mother,

doubted light leaf green, across the plains.

She speaks.

'Spare the bouncing hips, the sun that sets within fortune skies.

Polar shadows creep along to the bad flag tune.'

-

Yet, we head onward.

-

Onward into

more scheduled placemats,

lain against the ebb and flow of the great cosmic ocean.

-

The time of day when everyone seems okay.

Leave the paint lines yellow.

-

So I spent today among the plains.

Trying to forget the metal sharks along the electric current stream,

in each blade of grass.

-

Eyes closed. 

Mind closed.

-

Ancient Prophecies revealed to me,

the openness of shadow on a stark blue day.

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed