The clouds tucked and turned southwest,
a direction they rarely float,
bringing a cool stream of air over
the back fields.
The repentant sky cap
chills weighted thoughts,
and drags me into the undertow
of humility and regret.
Humilty, common and unnoticed,
like the spaces between the tall grass,
keeps the silence safe, smooth,
secure for a moment.
Regret, staunch, abrasive as nettles,
scratch at the ankles
while I pace the fields
like a labyrinth.
Come, lay me down,
cover me with your kindness
as the dew.
Until then I walk the fields.
Thanks for your time and thoughts.