Endless

November 26, 2007

The world is a sea of grass.

Smorgasboard through the long days
grain ripening- the world is a sea of budding heads

nodding in the sun.
At night we run,

rapid on tiny feet,
darting from shadow on shadow, nocturnal

feeding from the leavings of the wind,
gnawing at stalks- the world is a sea of night.

We freeze, suddenly.
Owl cries from a tree.

And the endless world ends
for one of us tonight.