Froth

bales

When the stalk is cut the head falls

seed spills sun bakes

no rain falls—the sky

 

the sky throbs brazen bare

bird-hush settles

on the mown scars

 

and yet and yet

 

it creeps back life

in green and yellow pink and blue

and white

 

white sea froth

butterfly-dancing beneath

the throbbing brazen sky

 

and we do creep back

rise up with heads thrown back

make another fine show

 

beneath the indifferent sky

bobbing on the great dry

white-frothed sea.

meadow froth