5 – ian

voices raised in the end nothing praised
the ground smells of the sun
the grass sits still wet
and i stand thirsty

her latent eyes that i stared past
were just as grass grown over mine
striving for the sun
or the beats and vibrations
that strove to get home
as they flew out and in

feeling rightfully small under the
full tilt stillbare trees of early spring
voices raised and in the end nothing praised

~ by engelberger on April 14, 2008.