Fever Poem by Derek ThomasRymer
Fever
I dreampt of a red pavilion
on a straw-yellow field
blurring in the holy light
of the sun's timeless beating.
Bare toes curling to the
bite of hollow stubble
I heard the thin blue wind
squeal fear off a jet's wing
and muttering cow-bells
Un-English as contrition.
Spilt blood soured to a stink
and power bellowed slick as death.
No horseman came.
Friday, April 27, 2012
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5/12/2024 4:21:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This reminds me of a harvested wheat field when I was a kid.Thanks.