A Poem by Patricia

the real world verses the internet

I wander at the edge of yielding fields
where night is at its darkest
far from contagious fevered voices from the viral hordes
of the old world and the new

owl to fowl the farmers, worn and labored, mend their backs
in dreamy winds through their unguarded windows
where their view is a rich and beautiful reflection of their life
narrow woods fence each lords' lands
just enough to hide the sparse and simple wildlife
the air has the flavor of sweet corn and humid dew
a child cries, a light flickers on, a dog barks, another answers
then it all goes silent and dark again

I lay upon my back to stargaze as I did as a child
I can almost feel the old world turn toward tomorrow
where rises the cacophony of the mob
a new world with millions of password guarded windows
with as many eyes, all looking into the same place
there is very little beauty to feed the senses and soul yet,
it thrives, without sun, water and air within its dimension and
where the view and reflection of man is narcissistic at best

© 2019 Patricia

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very little beauty as urban areas take over rural areas...and we lose the wild life, the farm life, the night sounds on a semi-quiet night in summer.
and walking those fields, the darkness beckoning...i remember that many times in Vermont and on farms later in life...beckoned, and feeling a tremor but at the same time a wondrous curiosity.
i love this poem...we don't need the narcissism of man and his technology and cities overrunning beautiful, tranquil fields.

Posted 5 Months Ago

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1 Review
Added on September 13, 2019
Last Updated on September 13, 2019