Imagined #4:

I sat in a quiet field

beside the mumur of a river,

rested beneath the willow,

the summer sun newborn

with yellow after winter's loss.

My eyes adjusted to the extra bursts

while around me everything burgeoned,

the willow's newly furnished branches

hung low

cast shadow filled with streaks of sunlight

allowed the mind to wander,

not a hound on a scent

rather a stroll through grasslands,

bright flowers, wild fennel.

On that stroll

I met myself past...

remembered statements and actions,

the red of shame,

the smile of folly,

the drum beat of love.

Like a cairn being built…the stones

of those silent whistlers of the breeze,

were a tally,

each stone a soldier who fought,

uncollected because the warrior did not return

from the bronze-aged battle.

While I rested

I viewed slowly,

the light behind my eyelids red,

my own cairn...all the bits

that never came to be

or returned differently

to what I expected.