Fields Free Of Snow Poem by John Rickell

The fields free of snow
these thirteen days.
the garden half dark
and a blackbird sings;
ten to five my clock,
curtains tight shut,
music on the radio
waiting for the news
Bach to take me back,
Halcyon's baroque spendour
competing the blackbird
distant and soon to sleep
he will rise early
to stir me from my bed,
she chasing foolhardy
worms seduced by a
warming breeze, gentle
rain on friendly trees.
All dark save for street
lights' yellow glow,
artificial shadows on
the garage roof where
now no bird sings;
here beside the fire
the music changes
Liszt, takes me into
the evening hours
and sleep....
gentle sleep..
gentle as the rain
on friendly trees.