And only the crows and I.
7/27/04 10:27 pmSempiternal
for just a snapshot-moment
it was only us on the field
three disparate and lonely people
waiting for the next photographic memory
the woman on a beach towel
browning and shining
nestled into the grass
watching him, watching me
her attention detained, her book
languishing at her side
the tumbler in pied pants
perhaps a martial artist
clad as a magpie, perhaps
practicing for an unknown circus
he leapt and swayed and danced to the beat
carried by an invisible drummer
and myself, lost in the brilliance
of that fine and prickling heat
swinging high enough to see nothing but sky
the only sounds--chains, creaking; crows, laughing
for just a snapshot-moment
it was only us on the field
three disparate and lonely people
waiting for the next photographic memory
the woman on a beach towel
browning and shining
nestled into the grass
watching him, watching me
her attention detained, her book
languishing at her side
the tumbler in pied pants
perhaps a martial artist
clad as a magpie, perhaps
practicing for an unknown circus
he leapt and swayed and danced to the beat
carried by an invisible drummer
and myself, lost in the brilliance
of that fine and prickling heat
swinging high enough to see nothing but sky
the only sounds--chains, creaking; crows, laughing