The small herd
Kept
Stamping and steaming
In the thawing field
Oblique slabs
Subdued
By the sun grimly greeted
Gave no regard
For feedless me
And ignored
The killdeer's cries
Throw from hoof print
To hoof print
Between earth-stained turfs
Attempting an illusion
Of omniscience
Far from the sea's idea
Of a home
Which rang
In the sand
Of my hollowed ears
A desperate art
This misplaced dedication
To heritage
In the afternoon
Receding
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment