In these green fields I am alone,
far from home,
well, not an unfamiliar place by now,
nor I am really alone
but once more with a dog-
dogs, the chance of many a road.
I’m walking her, a favor to friends,
she is friendly and obedient
and walks almost on a straight line
on the path of the lawn.
Gusts of wind make
the oaks and lime-trees sway,
a swarming of branches we gaze at,
I sit on a bench and she walks around
sniffing life under swollen clouds
in parade on patches of blue,
spreading their own pageant hue:
billows of silence and aloneness
with a touch of anything up there
and, despite anything, the grass
of desire, the forwardness.
A dog going on sniffing
while the sky blooms
busy with travelling clouds
with, behind, the sun’s gaze,
now a mellow blaze,
a mother-of-pearl light-grey,
welding here onto away.