The Coach Rides Past
The coach rides past where pheasants once were seen
But much has changed since then. You died. The limbed
Edge by the fields lost leaves and when the green
Came back again, the furrowed ground then brimmed
With life again, but if the cocks appeared
We could not see them. Someone set in rows
Some seeds for plants that blocked the view. I feared
The meaning of the swooping, circling crows.
But when the harvest came, the crop was swept
Away and only earth and stalks remained. At first
This barrenness that reigned in silence kept
The stubble scene paralyzed at its worst.
..But finally the pheasants have appeared
….Again, so now my soul alone is sered.