I lay here wondering as days go by,
as clouds float in and out of my vision.
And I am waiting, still dissatisfied.
I’ve had hopes flushed, a season gone awry,
of what was going wrong with my mission.
I lay here wondering as days go by.
I stood in fields, frowning at dying rye
while my friend treasured her ripe persimmon.
And I am waiting, still dissatisfied.
Giving joy were rare rain clouds in the sky
before fleeting without my permission.
I lay here wondering as days go by
and I am still trying to find out why
the plains picked me for cosmic derision.
And I am waiting, still dissatisfied,
just now with time open here this July,
time filled with dormancy and remission.
I lay here wondering as days go by,
and I am waiting, still dissatisfied.
