Fields swept in all directions--
a patchwork quilt of many greens,
border of chickweed, poppies,
Queen Anne's lace hemming
in the browning rye golden
against the blue and other
yellowish to greener grasses
gone gone gone and going by
the roadside of threshers
with handheld scythes, gatherers
with wooden handled rakes,
binders of sheaves with twine
at work, a red handkerchief
to wipe the sweat, a straw hat,
a lunch box, a bike beneath
that fruit tree and beyond--
the black of fir
pinking the horizon.
A contest entry
- Your Neck of the Woods by Simply Olivia.
575 points, ended July 24, 16 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Sounds like a community of Luddites
Or Amish... -
Stunning!!
Ahh... can you sense the freshest hues of a golden chalice, shining on the hazy, distant horizon, beyond your magical, poetic forest?!!?
Peace & hugs,
xx Cyn xx
-
Wonderfully descriptive!
Where is Redfield?
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