Monday, February 6, 2012

I stood afraid in a tall field of grass, I could barely see
I sat down. The grass was higher still, as if its blades touched a sky
Never inside myself did I feel so low
But I had become content as my eyes touched soft white clouds
Thankful there was a guiding sun that kept me warm,
I rose and walked freely in a tall field of grass


Old Ollie said...

Another piece of art SC.

I heard about a field of rye like this once.

Human Paradox said...

I like the spirit of this. A refreshing vision.