The Elegantarian floats on my memory,
Through wisdom and mercy
And dandilions caught in wind wasps.
And like these delicate pages
That curl around my intrigued thoughts,
I follow the trail of dust caught in sunlight
To the end of my memory
Where my lone pen carries onward.
A lost soldier makes his way home
Elsewhere, grenades go off in combat
Where trenches are dug deep into earth
Casually the soldier wanders home
Through orchards full of fresh fruit
Through rolling country hills
And friendly strangers minding
Their own important business
Along double track dirt roads
Fields of flowers for napping carelessly
And picking, one hangs loose about his shirt pocket
Heavy combat coat flung freely about his shoulder
Fresh cut grass sends over the valley
A smell so potent and refreshing
Even the young birds come stay for a visit
Enjoying the new horizons created
By the arching suns daily pattern
Carrying it’s essence onward
Into the mind of the young soldier
Making his way home away from battle
In peace so strong a hand from nowhere reaches out
And assures him that all will be right
And walks him onward, into the light
Blown in with the leaves of time
Strewn out like paper discarded
Elapsed like the growing grass
But still there escapes no figurative talk
No lively-hood of lust that escapes the drivel
Onward and upward in a spiral inward
Left for the ransacking
Two lone bowls of fruit
Monotonous in content
But alive with desire in substance
And then the snow begins to fall
Pulling with it a breath of relief
Inward it seeks for that calming nerve
