For years this field was lost in rain,
Unseen by moon and morning haze.
Its entropy a fade of green,
A negative beyond all space,
Ignored by all but heron’s wings.
It shed its paths as clues and rhymes:
Unnatural golds and hidden ways,
A loss which never formed a sky.
Yet here it is: a fragile myth;
A knowledge formed of what might be;
A place between; a knowing spell;
A line connecting distant hopes.
For once this world revolves around
This empty field, this broken crown.
This poem was written as a response to the photograph by artist Cheryl Garner. It is part of an on-going collaboration.
The photographs, with poems, can be found at:
the work of Cheryl Garner can be found at: