When Will I Be Able to Return

In late sun, the rivers and hills are beautiful
The fields talk of spring until summer arrives
Naked and lucid, like the blessed realms
The breeze behind your regard
Begs for sunset colors and the fragrances of flowers
The mud of our lives has thawed
As the river’s blue has a perfect touch of white
In the eyes of the soul grows riches
Beyond the daring suffering of our times
The Earth is magnificent and free
Unlike the slavish acts of men
I’ve watched the spring pass away
In another’s cheek, life has her own rhythms
I was always too young to discover them.