Dole Day Blues

Under the Quiet Sky............. The earth bends low in the damp of evening, Grainfields whispering as if to know The weight of silence we carry, Cracked hands smoothing the fading sun............ I walk the lanes, where the hedgerows curl like old stories, Their thorns reaching out to hold the sky in place. Each footstep is a word, Each breath a promise made To the hills, to the dust, To the unspoken things we never say aloud............ The brook runs on like time— Unhindered, unbothered, A slow song through green shadows That only the worn understand............. Somewhere, far off, A lark threads its song through the cool air, Its voice a thread that ties my heart To what has been, to what might never be again. I wait for dusk to answer, But it, too, keeps its distance.