In a field of wavering yellow,

pale and ripe,

each blooming stalk

supple in my wake,

brushing my legs like warm fingers,

drawing a golden curtain behind me.

Every grain,

each burgeoning head

turned up to greet me

in an expectant sigh,

whispering a sussurrus of encouragement

in some heavenly cypher.

A shy yet welcoming figure

stood observing from a distance,

moving imperceptibly closer

upon each questioning glance,

innocently curious;

curiously interested in me….

Until face-to-face

I found a pair of inward-looking eyes;

found nothing in my encircled arms

but my own small familiar form.

The light and warmth

never abated,

whether I stood still in contemplation,

lay cradled in its grassy depths,

or ran a multitude of patterns

across its summery

ripening expanse.

And this was how it stayed,

whether the wind blew,

or the clouds gathered,

whether the sun shone,

or the rain fell,

my meadow was golden,

and my heart was still…..


Filed under poetry

4 responses to ““Forever-Harvest”

  1. Lovely, Karen! – such a beautiful gathering of words, they sing to the soul!

    Many congratulations on your publication in this month’s ‘Tuck’ magazine too đŸ™‚

  2. woosha8

    I like this. Lovely choice of words, deep and thought-provoking!

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