A farm went by my window
last night.
A fleeting window of my childhood
Framed by organic memories,
Of scents of hay, dairy cows, specked chickens,
And sun cats licking,
Where poetry springs naturally
Inspired by living things,
Just for the pleasure of it.
A farm went by my window
last night,
Slowing, frame by frame
I watch as for the first time.
It crept from the recess of my memory,
Forever imprinted there
To surface in my dreams,
Framed in a context of certainly,
Like a dormant seed that seeks the moist, warm earth,
Running through my mind
rich in living, doing, dying things.
A farm went by my window
slowly last night,
With time to reflect upon
my place,
It was a call to participate on equal terms
with other living things,
To coexist with life’s seasons,
And to be grateful for events I don’t control.
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