Crop Circles

Your hope in me wears swift shoes on nimble feet
Springing Gazelle like through the tall and southward bent
Zoysa green blades of grass
I bend low to eye the high arched crop circles that you have
Left behind
In your sadly mistaken haste
And in your idealistic wake
My pastime is not to follow you
Nor is it to track your methodic moves
I live only to breathe in the remains of your vim
And the crushed life that slowly seeps chlorophyll
I envy you
Although I could never tell you
and
If you were ever inclined to trace your past steps
You would as sure as sunrise find me at lovelorn peace
Laid low by admiration
Content to trace the outline of your merciful imprint
Everywhere you have been
I have been and l have laid my body down
A carob tree shrine
A temple free of walls where I have prayed
and paid for my sins
While up ahead you run head first into my disappointing day
©2003 j.k bradford