Tuesday, January 25, 2011


In My Field
Sleep Rabbits

So I should recount to you
the passing day.

The bandaged wrist of the
server at coffee.

The death of family frail
amid the tubes.

Ending with an ovation to
important immediacy.

or

In the early winter morning
four rabbits sleep in the field I pass
appearing or disappearing like the snow.

Foot traffic drives them out during the day
they crouch amid gravel bed and shrubs
chivvied here, there, somewhere.

That’s where they go but what is it
about this cold dry windswept field
that brings them back?

                                       Guy




             

2 comments:

Kathiesbirds said...

I like the questioning aspect of this poem. It makes me wonder...

Guy said...

Hi Kathie I deleted my earlier comment because I wanted to give a more thought out reply rather than a quick thank you. I apprecited your comment because it is the sense of wonder that observing nature brings to my life that I really enjoy. And trying to capture something of that in a poem is an added joy. Thank you for your kind comments. Guy