Rural Reflections

This is the grass your feet are planted on
You paint it orange or you sing it green
but you have never found
a way to make the grass mean what you mean

a cloud can be whatever you intend:
Ostrich or leaning tower or staring eye
But you have never found
a cloud sufficient to express the sky

get out there with your splendid expertise;
Raymond who cuts the meadow does no less
Inhuman nature says:
inhuman patience is the true success

Human impatience trips you as you run;
stand still and you must lie.
it is the grass that cuts the mower down;
it is the cloud that swallows up the sky