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Across the River

we stand at the edge of a field, empty
except for new fallen snow
and the promise of wheat

beneath the snow; stand
in the field looking at the city
across the river, blue and silver,

the color of water at sunrise
water giving back the sunrise
to people who walk up and down,

people on stone streets in shoes
that have never felt plowed ground,
hands that never touched turned earth;

they never look across the empty river
to wonder at wheat moving in the wind,
and the wind

I like this a lot. Reminds me of Sandburg. It's a good pastoral with social commentary. Good combination. Well done. I think it a good nomination for IBPC

well thank you. Did anyone ever tell you what exquisite taste you have...
I do keep tinkering with it, in a small way, to me it reads a bit like a surreal dream
that keeps shifting with the light.

Good one...what Ken said

That final line is perfect. Whole poem good. There's a lot of repetition but it seems to work.

I'm ecstatic at the amount of good poetry coming out. I can remember 50 top poets making this page explode

I can remember that too. Way way back the poets were lucky if they lasted two days, as the older posts would scroll down to the bottom and disappear very vast. It was numbing, in many ways.

Judy. You got 3 votes. IBPC

I saw that. Im impressed, in spite of myself. And thank you.

Yes, Judy .
3 votes. thumbs up!

::smiles:: thank you, meenas