it's the way the land heaves
it breathes and it breathes
and rolls and curves in green
and purpling bluish glows
and clouds that pull and flow
the chill even in summertime
the inexplicable rhyming
between the land and the sky
dew that clings to each grass
rain that lingers on the gate
quiet like a cover pulled over
sheep in their obtrusive chorus
wool curled around a fence
stains on every windowpane
night falls with an endless dark
sunrise comes with blind eyes
sunset is golden and rare and warm
and then the night falls again
overwhelmingly at peace
infinitely calm and lovely
i am at home and at one with
a world that doesn't care about me
and yet does not resent me
i am another passing figure
in this place where nothing stays
and everything leaves memories
left with the memory of
the mist rising like chiffon
over ridges of greenish purple
the careful hand of the sky
stroking the trees and their leaves
that will turn crumbling red
once autumn arrives so soon
it is the most beautiful of deaths
light is fading once again
sleep will not come quite yet
cold collects like dew within
it'll rain again tomorrow, i expect