Do I dare walk this twisted mile

Beneath the sway of the weeping willow canopy.

An aire of pecan and clover

Floats on a warm moist wind,

Hypnotizing my senses.

Lured like steel to magnet

I saunter on my dream swept way.

Grassy fields cropped to a dandy’s perfection,

Paint a canvas of green

Dimpled with the smiling faces of daisies.

In the distance,

The silhouette of a weary plow horse

Pinches the emerald horizon,

As it grazes to reinvigorate.

With each yard strode,

A cloud of dust, summoned by my wake

Climbs to the heavens,

Whisked skyward by the tepid breeze.

Stricken by the silence,

Only the swirling song of  Morning Doves for company,

I reminisce of a time before my time.

What simplicity in this wanton beauty,

If only this were home.

 ~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~