ONLY DEAD GRASS

Morning turns into noon and finally

the mist embracing the undulating

hillsides of the little valley lifts,

dissolves, 

                 yet in the revealed

distance the mind thinks the eyes

see rain on the hill entwined

by trees and houses, 

                                   the one

you haven't walked for thirty-five

years or more, a kilometer away.

In the vast distance of years

and land only dead grass.

29.10.2025

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