A strong breeze moves this dramatic sky, changing moment by moment—
pink granite clouds curling around one another,
pushing...piling up...and passing on.
Perhaps to end in rain, in the night--
the kind that falls softly and brings with it, a cool morning.
I walk here to clean my spirit—
throw the windows open wide on the cares of the day,
let the breezes lift them from me,
draw in the fresh, new air.
And discover this new spring green,
the first emergent growth,
the promise of this field, for this season--
to grow, each day, a little stronger.
The field behind our house is farmed in rotations of corn and soybeans. Each spring, I watch and wait to see, for this year, which it will be.
The low, rolling fields of soy, or the narrow path between fields of corn, so different, both lovely.
One day, though, neither, as I watch them one by one, stand empty--then sprout a row of houses.