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Andrew Cedermark
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Tiller of Lawn
And with a new season
some wild affection, wild
geese in stormclouds
above my lawn, my friends ...
still I go out and get some
in the moonlight; then it's
tomorrow and I am a mess.
Still I cling to that old
midnight hoot-owl as if
I could ride from night to
the next — how everything
seemed to me from way up
there to be so sweet, so
sublime; down here seems
all everybody's got is a little
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hard luck sometimes.
I look back and see the dead
grass and it feels so good
but everything seems to
me from my train window to
be getting so much worse
Come on, save me love
Moving never soothes my
worries, so come on! Oh,
come on and save me love
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