The Sun Falls
There is a haze over the evening sun I have parked near the dry lake
luckily it is free of brave men in helicopters and the gipsy horses too
are absent this evening their owners have left to find another camp
one near a stream where the water smells of the mountain dew.
I wonder if horses dream, say about pulling a cart of happy children;
yes, these futile dreams I had them once.
When you get old, you lose it all, first slowly then rapidly in the end
the only people one meets are doctors at the hospital.
All you held dearly loses its meaning nothing really matters I regret not
having fought more for as my uncles helped the Jews in the war but
one day they will be free of tyranny a pity it is taking so long.
I fill my lungs and scream like the man on the bridge my frustration is total.
Had I been a cattle thief in Texas and caught they would sling a lasso around
my necks sit on a horse doing the job I lack the courage to do.
As I start the car to leave I see a man with a scythe cutting fodder for his goat.