Click on image for more A-Z
F is for Fields
FieldsMy childhood was spent in the weeds,
in fields of untamed wheat growing blonde,
in grasses wide enough to call into.
The air was uncluttered.
Long fingers of stratus floated
like angel hair.
A wild place
spreads itself out into the open,
fallow and forgotten,
filling the world with a voice,
whispering
I am herefind me
Published on April 06, 2012 04:00