americana

wellesley gardens
growing old while i watch them
here i first stretched to touch the leaf
on the branch out of reach
and sought the silver kingdoms of reason
only to find them empty
now i'll return
in the dying season
to my own country
and seek a lowlier question there
who knows the how or where
why or if
but in the grey fields
and flown mists
of desolation and despair
perhaps i'll find jesus