lands
I carried
Tennyson’s words
in my pocket those days
for warmth like a flask,
the uncertain air
of a desert fall
gilding the sky, my path a ribbon of earth
beneath crags
where eagles still fall
like thunderbolts
© Jonathan Bohrn (2008) ("Lands")
She is good for me –
the Southwest wind,
the scent of warm earth
and marigold
when I face her |