if I were to lay upon the field all day
until the dew soaked through my shirt
then I would have a picture of something great
forever in my head
while the earth
the earth would wear an imprint of my outstretched form
for a short time
a short time alone
the passage of one cloud across the sun
the time it takes the buck to run for home
[first posted Dec 31, 2013]
Reblogged this on Another Way of Saying.
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