Beyond the green of grass,
a sea of gray …
the grim of grave
where lay his great grandfather.
Dressed like a groom,
his beard full grown,
a gray sign of time past.
The church clock beats midnight,
in Greenwhich time,
and sounds the gravest hour.
On top,
a lost sheep is grazing in the grass,
thinking in dreams of green.
The groom below,
the gray between,
the grave on top,
forgotten …
It’s green or gray,
groom or grandfather,
to grow, to grave,
the sheepless grass,
or grazing fast.
Halfspoken 