Saturday, September 6, 2014


Morning and memory wake me together
When night is yet holding the laggards in sleep;
I walk through the dew in the warm summer weather,
Through pastures where succulent grasses are deep
And horses are waiting the slavery of leather.
The silence is broken. A cow's restless lowing
Betrays her a pagan who worships no dawn
And bows to no God but the need of milk flowing
For one wayward calf to build sustenance on
And find in the dawning the need to keep growing.
Too many mornings are barren and groping,
Worship is bludgeoned and harnessed to greed;
But prisms of dew with a pale ghost is coping
To waken a dream. There is pain in the need
Of morning and pastures where horses are loping.


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