Roger Lanich - Letter to Editor

The Clover Field

The blue of the sky falls on me
By the edges of the clover field
Where my feet get wet from the morning dew
As summer begins to yield
To the autumn winds of the north
Bringing a crispness to the air
Reminding me that everything changes
Whether we do or do not care

A deer leaps amongst the clover
Running far out of sight
And as I watch it disappear
The geese are high in flight
Sailing away to somewhere warm
Back to their winter home
Leaving me standing in the clover field
Remembering and alone

The sparrows sing next to the field
Where the thistles rise
Singing one last song of goodbye
While mist forms in my eyes
And as I stand listening to them
I remember long ago
When you and I were standing here
And my teardrops turned into snow

You can not change the seasons
No more than you can change your past
It wasn’t meant to be that way
For not everything will last
But somewhere inside I’ll remember
Standing in the clover field
Watching the blue of the sky falling
As summer begins to yield

Roger Lanich,
Wausaukee