as you drive towards
the farm house
childhood poplars
crowd the dirt road
tenant larks and sparrows
whistle and chirp the home coming[
it is still dark but the red period
light breaks the black cloaked horizon
crickets, frogs and mallard ducks tell
the acres of windy wetlands
that the prodigal son has returned home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem