The Desolate Field

Vast and grey, the sky

is a simulacrum

to all but him whose days

are vast and grey and —

In the tall, dried grasses

a goat stirs

with muzzle searching the ground.

My head is in the air

but who am I . . . ?

— and my heart stops amazed

at the thought of love

vast and grey

yearning silently over me.