HARVEST

I LIKE to think that love slips through time
finding empty spaces to fill - a heart empty
who can say what love (even time) is I say

the barren fields will produce their harvest
as does love when the farmer comes to till
how much ground to turn over until I am grown

The silence of the wilderness grows so cold
these days when I ride upon my beast to town
and leather brushes my soul - the sun bakes

broken skin upon the lips of a worn spirit
tastes of bitter iron like the wound of my heart
bullets, knives, dirt and eagles soar the day

Like waves in a lake I will stray beyond
the shores of this life to find her across
the water in greener land I fight to reach

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