After the sun retracts its harsh tentacles,
I leave the field,
dripping with exhaustion.
Gossamer fabric
falls limply about my ankles,
and with it, the weight of sunrise.
New dreams saturate my ambition;
or perhaps they are old ones,
lapping against tonight’s unfamiliar shores.
My cheek kisses the country cotton sheets,
and I am reminded
that as the past fans out behind me
and the future shrinks ahead,
now is my forever.
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
After the sun retracts its harsh tentacles,
I leave the field,
dripping with exhaustion.
Gossamer fabric
falls limply about my ankles,
and with it, the weight of sunrise.
New dreams saturate my ambition;
or perhaps they are old ones,
lapping against tonight’s unfamiliar shores.
My cheek kisses the country cotton sheets,
and I am reminded
that as the past fans out behind me
and the future shrinks ahead,
now is my forever.
Originally composed in April, 1998; revised in July 2012
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