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 ~~