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Where There Are No Lies

- by Linn Barnes

Where there are no Lies
-Linn Barnes

There are no lies
in the greening spring
the rising crops
and speed of Finn
racing round the property
walking the high grass
wet with the dew
fixing a fence post
tuning a lute
humming a tune
smiling at dawn
rising into the 
glory of another 
just day.

But that is 
being threatened
plowed under
by grim realities
by haunted visions
crumbling the rhythm 
with the no count
reality seeping into 
the very pores of things.

Then blink once
and then twice
re-fancy the glade
the hill to the river
the sound of the pileated
swooping through the trees
the raspy cough of the deer
the Spring gobble of the tom
the sweet laughter of someone
near who watches and cares for 
your every move and breath.