Walking this abandoned field, by Steve Abbott

Walking This Abandoned Field

–– by Steve Abbott.

Walking this abandoned field I am looking for something inside myself, an old shovel perhaps or some evidence of planted seed.

I come upon a tree much like one I used to climb as a boy & lying down, my eyes roam over the frayed hatband of evening sky.

That is how I used to feel loving you.

How sweet the air smelled then, like rain in Nebraska after a field was plowed.

Now all I can see is this tree & the memory of how high we once climbed.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– From Wrecked Hearts, Dancing Horse Press. © 1980 by Stephen E. Abbott.