Trace my steps knowingly…
Trace my steps knowingly with your whispered incantations. See me to the crest and look down on the terrace they have carved out for us.
What of tenderness remains in the subdued glory of lowly pastures whose only wish was to fortify the outstretched arms of chance and the ploughman’s lament?
Redemption lies just beneath the surface of impassioned passes to and fro, of weathered hopes and copious returns. Fruit beckons becoming as old iniquities are put to rest. A procession of future mornings looks back over its shoulder and shivers in wistful delight.
Art: “Enclosed field with Ploughman” Vincent van Gogh