Give me a field.
New wildflowers littering the ground.
The sound of a creek always in the back of my ear.
Sparrows dart around in the daylight,
bats come out at dusk.
Aspens flutter the eyesight with the coming ray-light.
I need this grove, garden of herbs.
So many souls to speak with,
that can never be heard.
Can you find me,
in early may rain.
Passing thoughts always will stay,
like raindrops on the arm.
Lost, lost, pass away.
in this urban space we're dying.
While the raindrops soak under our feet.
only raindrops grounded.