Yearling Poem by Shaun York

The man on the moon ran away when morning came
And the earth reached up to touch
His stiffly flowing veins.
The wandering miles
Brought him back
To the land where
Pressed flowers
Kept their shelter
In books
long forgotten
By name

He ran beside the flying machines
At dusk
Amidst the fields and dreams
And runways of
Summer beetles,
Tied and tethered

But then the moon rose again in the hollowed out streets
And he wept the wistful tears of
Old hounds as they dream of
Chases remembered, and
Whimper
In their sleep