Countryside – henry turns over His potato (resting) field to the left of his house Windmill noises sound like the rush of the sea He gave me the curtain he used to look through He's reached the deadend of the rails Walks off the beaten track Henry is a lonesome man From a hundred years ago Grown up in a time of change Never lost his childish glow The wind is telling of a lonely son The copper stain from years to come He is taking pictures of the sun Decided for the calm (the neighbors house stays calm) Countryside – henry's up early Awaking to the sparse empty land The isolation is hard to stand What love is there to demand There is a field in grid, a path, a hand A glance, a grasp, a word at a strand