I had to lay on my back to get this shot of an aging flower out in a field in Wisconsin last summer. Below is one of the stories (thought or moment) I draw from the image.
Now’s To Come
In the time that is now
I move closer to the earth
In the time that was once called now
I stood so tall
Face held open to the sun
I had dreams then
The butterflies brought them to me
They were whispers
Dreams are whispers
Whispers of the goings on in other places
Places I could not see
But could only imagine
The butterflies said
It is all playing out
Going the way it goes
It is well, nearer to wonderful
And you are a part of it
It cannot be without you
My dream that is left
Is that in the time to come
That will be called now
When it comes and I reach the dirt
All the whispers of the butterflies
Will be clear
In that now
In the time that is now
I move closer to the earth
In the time that was once called now
I stood so tall
Face held open to the sun
I had dreams then
The butterflies brought them to me
They were whispers
Dreams are whispers
Whispers of the goings on in other places
Places I could not see
But could only imagine
The butterflies said
It is all playing out
Going the way it goes
It is well, nearer to wonderful
And you are a part of it
It cannot be without you
My dream that is left
Is that in the time to come
That will be called now
When it comes and I reach the dirt
All the whispers of the butterflies
Will be clear
In that now
Jeff in the meadow
No comments:
Post a Comment