Going to Ground
And then there are those times when you follow
ground rather than sky, spying your way
by clump, not star, tufted mound, found hollow
in a hill. You’ve not been kind, and as day
falls, and night falls too (from your perspective),
you want to weep, but can only walk,
cross snow-swept field, unable to relive
what you didn’t rightly live when the clock
wound round first go. As coat sleeve side-slides,
yaps sound, a wild chorus, and not distant,
though muted in dim. Your startled heart invites
in fear to replace remorse, but, next instant,
recognizes the whine of rubbed nylon.
You walk, arms behind back now, head still down.
*************************
A sort of a sonnet, with slant rhyme and shifting pentameter, for dVerse Poets Open Link Night.
ManicDDaily 
Recent Comments