Time hurries on

I feel my body

Pressing the gravel beneath

My back engulfing the small,

Cool stones packed in the dust,

Dirt, and errant dandelions

As I lie on my back

In the deserted fairgrounds

One crisp spring night

The moon is low

Large; orange behind the thready

Grey clouds. It is just after dusk

And the stars are few

And precious.  This once

I see them all, and no one

Lies in the fairgrounds

Save eye, savoring every smell

Left over from a long

Winter, and the silence-

The silence, on gravel

Under a perfect moon.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written in April, 2007.  Part of an ongoing assignment (not course-related).

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