My farm,
My farm and yours
churns restlessly in a storm.
Red dusks at night,
my grass,
baked and dry,
keeps animals searching until sleep.
Resting sun
breaking out of the hilltop
as awake as us,
faithful in promise.
Quiet in heat,
eye of chance
fermenting the air to stifle,
stares fixed in its path.
Close up
the earth moves away,
burnt and frozen,
silenced in bloom.
Hopeful of time and distance,
Your eyes
deep and serene
glow brightly into me.
Hope, my angel,
your voice rouses animals from the shadows
the earth blossoms again
silent in monsoon,
our tears shall feed the circle
and she shall close her eyes
and rest again.