I Dwell In Lonely Plains Among Hills

I dwell in lonely plains among hills - whole, with a cloudless sky over our heads A green veil and a path of yellow jonquils Encircling a few slow-paced windmills, Where melancholy seldom treads, Allow me to gather the midday shadow Then borrow ashen leaves on the loam pillowed between lodging roots that grow on the bottom of the undefiled meadow, dissipating awareness with the foam. Ah, so close I am from persistent joy Undisturbed in my relentless sleep Smiling broadly like a contented boy unpacking the casing of a new toy, discovered in a hoard hidden deep. Untold dreams do not age so well Wrinkled by the chastising disbelief, like a unseen worm within a fruit’s shell, consuming the core with a sinister spell, the full harvest can be lost to a mischief. A butterfly made a deal with the wind Uncertain in her surety where to end, Even if the air’s blows are swift and unkind She will follow, colorful and blind, whichever routes her pair will send.