[They, lost, and to the]

They, lost, and to the

touch of one another do go

and to say such things

in the grass plain of day

gone long-to be comfortable

or to lie there ruining one's clothes

and in the air above the growing lawn

a bell reflects itself in sound

and asks-what will will leave you

this?-to touch and at once

to be touched. Easy again blows

the warm wind and we bend to it

as does the grass, but we are wanting.

Structure

13 lines · 1 stanza