My Home and Prison
In my quietude not all is quiet -
the glowworms glow and the bush crickets sing,
and by his haunting song does fly and flit
ruru the hoot owl on his silent wing.
At sunup out of my chorus vigil
I see through the bars a big cotton sky,
for all that dawns on the crest of the hill
is a time and place that has passed me by.
And I my walls am inside looking out
where over flight of years on prison row
Orion and Hercules fly about
casting shadows on Paremoremo.
And my dog, he listens and licks my face
in my corner of the world and shut space.
Written: May 1992
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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