Sometimes when the winds

blow green, and the clouds

sit low on the land,

there's a voice in the mists

that hums a dirge, played

by a funeral band.

.

You can almost hear

the mourners' steps,

with limp body in hand,

newly discovered, soon

dispatched, while the clouds

sit low on the land.

.

The green winds blow

the flung sod to and fro,

to the rhythm of

the funeral band, and you feel

yourself laid in the earth

below, when the clouds

sit low on the land.

02/14/2005