Contents Index of titles
Index of first lines PDF version of this poem
Concordance Random poem
Now and Then
The grass in the next field
is greener? No.
Ours is emerald.
Our grief is other: how seldom can we go
cropping it together, being penned
in distant corners of the wide
acreage that is ours. Surely we
in the end
shall find ourselves made free
to roam the pastures side by side?