The Field is White
Carolyn Caines
The field is white and bare,
not a comma or dot marks the way.
A perfect acre of lawn,
prime real estate.
Here is the tract where a poem
could rest and stretch out its limbs,
where a thing could blossom
displacing the silence.
Leave room for a breath after
each plowed and planted row,
the space necessary for words
to mature from prose into poetry.
The field is white and ready
for a plucking of keys
and a planting of thought.
Here is an acre that will do.
not a comma or dot marks the way.
A perfect acre of lawn,
prime real estate.
Here is the tract where a poem
could rest and stretch out its limbs,
where a thing could blossom
displacing the silence.
Leave room for a breath after
each plowed and planted row,
the space necessary for words
to mature from prose into poetry.
The field is white and ready
for a plucking of keys
and a planting of thought.
Here is an acre that will do.