John D. Hamilton
"Landscape"
Rows and rows of green and yellow corn
rustle and sway along the roadside
in spaced and measured precision.
The lake and small rivers are too near
and give away too much in the sunset.
In time, I've found,
one's guard becomes weary
and, unsheltered,
even the iron gate
begins to rust.
In defense,
I carry this old picture:
The trees full and graceful,
the sun the way it should be.
A small boy walks clad in white,
strides boldly without the notion
of fear and completely at ease
with his surroundings.
Posted April 16, 1997
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3-24-97
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