09 November 2009

Belonging Here

rows
that sense of belonging went West
wrapped in cambric with my dreams
I know I fit into the Land – it can’t
get better than that but there were
moments when I saw through wider
eyes; now I stand where I only see
clear to the end of each tree row
without restraint and wonder why

there is no asking more than what
you gave unstintingly for love that
ate your grace and nascent wisdom
greedily – it went to feed without
complaint a displaced soul who’s
spaced uneasy of his origins
© 1 October 2009, I. D. Carswell