After Robert Frost
If life were simple & I were free
I’d walk a mile just to see
Some leaves upon a forest floor
And then I know I’d walk some more
Just tripping softly through a field
A flower-picking hand to wield
A bit of wood, both rare and fine
It would not do, mere oak or pine
Upon a trail for many a yard
To gather baubles soft or hard
.
.
Far too alike a bower-bird
With trinkets flirting, so I’ve heard
As I am human after all
And haven’t sparkle nor the gall
To strike outside my species’ mold
Or gender’s: mine to have and hold
To heart, to breast, to feather
Too shy to venture whether
A laden heart and gathering hand
Were not unlike a lover’s band
.
.
If ‘morrow could become today
And walking weren’t walking away
I’d time and place and grandeur
And all that’s expected, slander
To wit, a-traipsing through a glen
A bit of bark to schlep and then
No altar, pillar, public place
But tree-ringed clearing, it’s my place
To hallow, heal and to adore
A speckled consort evermore
I am happy with the theme and format but feel the wording needs...something.
Posted May 27, 2022, 5:29 PM UTC · edited