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.
