Big stars burn down from the sky,
the moonlights part of the way.
Bronzed grass lines the streetscape,
this land is crisping under the sun.
Blossoms on the breeze do smell,
as a lost memory emerges, forms.
Big stars burn down from the sky,
the moonlights part of the way,
so, I walk to the end of the street.
Black sky, big stars, a bright moon;
the hills sit in luminous shadows,
no cows moo at this time of night.
Bronzed grass lines the darkened
hills flowing beyond the shadows,
to remind me of other landscapes.
Blossoms on the breeze do smell,
reminding me of the landscapes
of my life, and how the landscapes
of this land changed me over time;
how this land’s landscapes change.
C & K 