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In a whirl of dust,
others would see drought.
To me it recalled Jenny's skirt
at a dance of many years ago.
I could feel my earth
vibrating with sounds,
it was my heart.
Then why keep cultivating it?
How to imagine it better?
Freedom
I saw it sleeping in tilled fields:
to Heaven and Money,
to Heaven and Love,
protected by a barbed wire.
Freedom
I saw it awakening
each time I played
for a swish of girls at a ball,
for a drunken buddy.
And then, if the people find
- and the people do find -
that you can play
why, play you must,
for all your life
and you're delighted to be listened to.
It ended with fields of nettles,
it ended with a broken flute.
And a husky laugh, and memories so many,
and not a single regret...