gray/green field

it is there on misty mornings,
reflected in curvy glass
on paths that speak,

keep coming down me

going forward
self propelled
to places without question

on time, and very astute
a perfect statue attitude

we are interested
in porous borders.
surrounding acres for you,
rods for me

there is no movement
when all moves as one
the sky has always gawked
at our improper rush and roll

© smithpeter, poem and photo, September 25, 2002