If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?



Friday, June 11, 2010


Every year as summer approaches and the first hay is cut,
I search for the words to describe this...

Another try...

First cuttings lay in the fields,
Like slumbering ruins,
Waiting for Winter's long hunger.

1 comment:

  1. Smell the new cut hay
    It is the smell of new life
    Same again next year


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