~these eyes have watched~
~the spring grass blowing~
~they have tossed~
~& turned the clouds of afternoon~
~into images of~
~summer on the way~
~we are passing~
~we are going~
~& the zephyr it is blowing~
~it is gentle~
~in the evening~
~these eyes have closed~
~with worry under lashes~
~they have spilled~
~their tears when laughing~
~there is nothing they can’t see~
~nothing we can’t do~
~when we’re ready~
~when we’re going~
~we are lying in the grass~
~we are angels on the ground~
~when we fall down laughing~
~these eyes have opened~
~they have wondered~
~the horizon~
~loved the eyes beside them~
~they have winked into the dawn~
~closed themselves away~
~found a path across the room~
~& gone walking~
~through the blowing blades of grass~
~to the only one they knew~
~would come to find them~
Hudson Review published February 2009
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