A poem about Abstraction

[Leanne]

and yet, when summer came that year
the photographs would clearly show
a lamb transfixed by silver spear
gone green in waves of vertigo

with sideways look and charcoal bow
a child arose beyond the hill
and in the barrow down below
the starving cry for music still

we sow our patterns where we will
for nothing comes to those who wait
with bowls for other men to fill
while fortunes die upon the plate

I met a piper, stole his tune
and rode it backwards to the moon