I sometimes wonder.
I think that the moon, in it's gibbous state, colored auburn--what they call a harvest moon-- seems to be ambivilantly and unapologetically both giving ominious and peaceful feelings.
That's nature: danger and beauty wrapped in the same package.
It is dark.
I am lost somewhere in a mikan field in the mountains. With trimmed heges jutting up like monoliths.
Who trims headges around a mikan field?
Maybe the man who lives at that giant country house.
But the man is not there to answer that question.
And he would probably think me odd for being here in the first place.
It is dark.
I am alone.
And I wonder...
I suspect this is a true story? Ha ha. Makes me curious. You obviously escaped without complications, though...hmmm.
ReplyDeleteTo avoid sounding like an idiot by analyzing it, I will be brief =p. This poem sounds like a haiku, but it obviously isn't. Hm, I like the sound of it (when one says it out loud, that is). And like deas said, I'm assuming this connects with something you did? xD
ReplyDeleteoh yes, there will be photos. And a typo corrected.
ReplyDeleteLovley. Last night felt a bit like that too.
ReplyDelete