Theme for a Patch of Woods (trilogy, part III)

If I could write your theme I’d sing your praises
like the anthem of the ages
words of idiots and sages
But I’ve got volume after volume, empty pages
all evaporated phrases
raining down in lightning blazes

If I could write your theme I’d pound the pavement
into tiny little fragments
where the ghosts of all the trees went
The cracks would sing of soil and bugs and pine scents
the seedlings pray with heads bent
and grow until they’re spent

If I could write your theme I’d sing of traces
of wild unbridled spaces
human vision soon erases
Where all the unused land us just a waste
until it is replaced
to house another human face

If I could write your theme I’d write in seeds sown
in the journeyed flocks of birds flown
endless riches never owned
I would paint it in the misty veil of earth tones
In the crooked curves of back bones
of swallows sweeping home

If I could write a theme what would I do next?
The black-top breeze could care less
as it whips the strip mall stretch.
My useless words would crash with floods of storm crests
I could write them with my last breath
as we’re loving you to death.

Copyright Tracy S. Feldman, All rights reserved