calling

let us call on the meadow
the field of our
youth - rip open the wind
and the grace
greener fields
speckled in gold - mustard
gold
I remember you
I look upon you with longing
and love
come back to my heart
and hear the muted
cry of a single
bird
a single bird who craves
the meadow
the lily and the moving
of mustard
ripped open
in the wind

bkmackenzie