I have gone out into the snow,
braving the winter’s fiery cold,
and searched for rabbit high and low
when frosty mitts refused to hold.
perfect pearl blue.
Ever since the wolf was at the front door,
we’ve build our lives with bricks,
The world is a gamble,
In jest we place our bets
and wink at destiny
as hopeful players do
in this the game of craps.
Under the figs
I woke to fog and dew,
white oaks, and mist
I looked for you
in places we used to go,
I returned, I had seen,
and was conquered.
The future is so far,
the destination further still,
and like head lights cast down the road
Sometimes, I think that I live out
of city lights and on the farm.
I mean, the chickens are out
I like my coffee sweet,
my tea the same, and neighbors nice,
and so I keep borrowing sugar—
My conscience is a needle’s point
that is thread through the days behind;