The Field in Texas

The field has a boundary both far and near. The western edge is lined

with trees. The northern line is edged with palms and streetlights on poles

to shine

at night. The southern limit hosts a mesquite tree for boat-tailed grackles

to make

a landing. On this eastern border I reside like a potentate counting golden petals

on a field

of ragwort. But over all the field, there beyond all horizons, is the Sky ... unbounded.

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