Elegy

Come sleep with a blanket of green green clover
Here on my mattress of pine and wheat.
The nightlight is lit by Orion and silver.
The days are burned by the sun’s lazy heat.

Your feet are so pale against the green clover
Translucent blue and wet from the rain
Poised to run on into the future
Almost could if not for the pain.

For the long white roots of my green green clover
Are linked deep and bound tight to the sweet pine and wheat.
To the ground, alas you are firmly rooted
Decomposing molding becoming one with the peat.