After a Late Afternoon Run in Thornrose Cemetery on the Last Day of March
I lie on my back on the eastern slope.
The clouds are close. Moving as if on an escalator.
When I get up, ten thousand blades of grass
do the same, rising slowly, bent in the middle
But straightening, unburdened.
Love this, Jeff. Just beautiful.
Thank you, Len.
You know it’s a favourite when you pause to absorb it and then instantly read it again. Loved it.