Saturday 23 January 2016

letters

Thought to send you a letter.
That seemed contrived
and it better fit to tell you here
I saw the trees
sometimes straight sometimes knotted
sticks and branches
perfectly spaced to catch light
not a leaf to block
raindrops clinging
silver glistening
on mottled greys and browns.
Caged trees in city lines
they made me cry for fields
and mixed god thrown types
that catch imaginations’
wanting, take me
away from this lock box
of concrete and cars,
this people prison,
give me a hill 
where waters ripple
where grasses wet my feet 
as forgiveness
runs to a cove
and a small boat at anchor.
Would you meet me there
        or
would you rather a letter?