Sunday, September 2, 2012

God waves like wheat

Watching from the train
as the world speeds by,
I drink from the cup
of summer fields,
glowing in light's embrace;
taste the sweet blue warmth of sky,
roll the clouds on my tongue;
imagine the farmer
stepping from his shed
with scythe in hand...
 God waves like wheat
in a field of wind.

1 comment:

Maureen said...

Lovely. I especially like "roll the clouds on my tongue"; it immediately set me to thinking, what must that be like?