Eternal Fields Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Eternal Fields
All my joy pours into your river
You are the vase of ancient meadows
Forests in the conscious light
Born in the mossy night
Plumes of purple mountains
Wells by the lime lanterns
We rest like the morning rain
Tribes of grazing buffalo
Tents of pure language
Caves with turquoise laughter
Brilliant stars have joined us
These lands are tongues of great pines
Buried, seeds budding in eternal fields
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4/25/2024 8:15:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
