Roughly as big as my fist, it would break to see you again. Aren't we tired of this? The wind is colder and the soil is broken open.
I bought a telescope. The paper said the moon was new and so I looked up in the air. I needed something new but there was nothing there. (This thing is withering)
I bent the earth to see your form rise into the frame, frail though it is to mention more to the passing days.
I broke the earth to hide you beneath the graying sky. Clouds covered every corner; field's fallow season dies.