Wider Fields

 

Wider Fields

(“But he brought us from there in order to lead us in and give us the land...” Deuteronomy 6:23a)

It should no longer surprise me,
this mud and dirt under my feet.
Red clay from the badlands,
cement soot from the foundation we poured,
pavement dust from suburban sidewalks,
forest loam and evergreen needles,
fallen leaves on steep and slippery hills;
all under sweat, snow, sun, wind and
days that pass while the rain kisses everything.

For all the meander from city to rural sounds
of coyotes on the cliffs and mockingbirds gigging their riffs,
I’m bound inside my mind these days
(though safe, and only alarmed at dreamed
intentions on angry faces)
I still long to wander again,
to saunter past the circles of stringed instruments
who knew the lyrics to everything.

I would dedicate this to you, if I knew where you were.
I would sing my heart to you, if I knew you would hear.
I would hug the fear away from your face,
tell you it was all a mistake,
and gladly invite you to ramble again
past locked gates and lines drawn in the sand.

Would it surprise you that our feet show the
dirt from the sages before us?
Would it persuade you that offbeat is still
my favorite improvisation?
I will not detain you, but perhaps, in this
lockbox of age we will find the wider fields
we once walked upon.