|
| |
Plain Affected
The forest around her story damning the plains—
The littlest girl seen by the wind through the plains.
Green honey passes just by a bee's swirling wings;
The gold smoothed by her heart; fingers reading the plains.
The likelihood of being near to her this game,
She surrenders up more than her stones to the plains.
A drying rag, the glass pint in her cast as she
Remembers her death of the harvest in the plains.
The sun knocks knees; and against the grain, she shivers
Everywhere as she walks among the swaying plains.
For her own loves knew not what they were to do with
That dear unworthy child who craves after the plains.
In the golden clouds, the rain's stare on the life that
Returns one season after season for the plains.
God, reap the grace instead, that the grain makes me walk,
The soul in woman form leaving the silent plains.
Copyright ©
Paige Hind
|
|