Justin Pugh

Justin Pugh Poems

The Best Poem Of Justin Pugh

The Falling Field

Once upon an early autumn morning,
wary and rash,
oh the folly of it,
nerves thrilled with fear
hearts full of dreams,
two strangers collapsed
into each others arms in a field.

They didn't know why.

The ghost of a pretty shepherd girl,
awakened from long ago
by the shadow of their embrace,
fancied she saw the tangle
of long sundered lovers.

And all at once,
with scarce a hello and hello,
the sky grew as large
as the sky of childhood
and the world became nothing
but fields and rivers
from horizon to horizon.

Like bursting from the wings
onto a once upon a time Rupert Book stage
into a fairytale whose only script
is the gently blown ink of the lovegods,
the words forming in golden traceries,
flowing like the broken veins of King Midas
across the distressed damaskan field of the page.

The river was the river and
the heron was the heron and
the sunlight on the water was
the sunlight on the water.

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