Daydream III

A wind is coming,
bringing heat out of a pale evening
to thaw this crusted, damp ground.
Breathing life back into drowned
stems of curled plants and tough grass,
the small green bodies revived
and touching each other in the light
that shimmers through a mesh of leaves.
This ground that has stained us
with rich earth's-blood in seams,
smudged across cuffs and hems
and trodden into darkened halls,
now prepares for our return
and respirates parched air
passing through its dusty flutes.
The dew is boiling off the lawns
and by nightfall they will be dry,
ready for the grasping of our hands
through their clustered blades.
Ready to lay a carpet under the night
where we can lie and feel our skin
prickled by the twitching tips,
where we can watch a string of lights
calling from a distant fairground.