Lull

I envy


the slow old


women and men


their abandoned faces


ideal for the chiselled


edge of the wind,


the absolute eyes


of children,


meeting everything


dirt blobs jewelled,


rusty strips of tin,


ducks, dogs, flowers,


cows moored


deep in grass,


taking time to fathom


the unrelenting land,


these days,


as the maze


of silver briar


tightens in my skull.

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