on the rolling paddock of afternoon

the French doors swing, swing and swing
on an axle hinge

and the dulling light on the rolling paddock
dulls the green grass
goads my heart

I fear emptiness night will bring

on the rolling paddock of afternoon cries my heart

and the dulling light in my father’s eyes
dulls his green grass
tears my heart

and a night bird sings, sings and sings
and I weep under the weight of the blackbird’s wings

 

Advertisements
This entry was posted in literature, poem, poems, poetry, writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to on the rolling paddock of afternoon

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s