sitting in a field of roses
sounds good, in theory
not roses, though
i imagine yellow flowers;
sunflowers, or buttercups
something sunny
it's got to be warm out there
in the field, with the sky on top
like a warm happy summer sun person sandwich

but sitting alone in a field of flowers,
day after night after day, it
just might get old
it might get cold
out there, in there, in here.
what happens in the dark, in the
tangled affairs of roots and worms
what happens when the night comes
rolling in?

the answer, sweet friend, is here
we go here, in here, inside.
when the dark comes, we go in.

but we were always in.
it's where we are.