The Gatering

is it time for me
to leave behind
stop plowing
the same fertile fields
of the blue something
or other
the sun
moon
wind
rain
clouds
sky 

scattered birds

they have gathered together
friends of kind
inquire why
I dwell on them
they list the possibilities-
compulsion
inevitability
some odd
intoxication

they have suggested I look beyond the stars
the galaxies
speak to deities
mystics
my dogs

lazily I agree

see the seed of a daisy 

where the sun once was...

jppestana november 7, 2016