The Earth Gives Dream

A Poem by Douglas Caraballo

Photo by Scott Ogle on Unsplash

There is a place
Where the earth lifts itself
In the scent of rain.

A wet field glazed in mustard hues
Sets fire.

We drive lazily down roads
Overlaid with silent weight.
And smoke re-gifts the light

my youth is Lazarus.

The days are slow
and the weeks quicken pace;
with our thoughts muffled
by Barometric deity.

I hear the over-under realm
Of collective worry.
It breaks across the field,
breathing through the grass.

Now the rain presses
the colors from the earth.
The paint upon the dust is
Saturated.

with all prayers going up towards uncertainty.
saying.
“Why have my eyes been born to witness at all?”

The dew lies deep upon the brush
The earth gives dream to its colors.