Elsie

Back by trees that stand
into sky, green against blue
or grey to steel snow,
she watches yellow grain move 
to and fro, audience to
a calm horizon and her heart.

She hears wisps of 
boots brushing stalks until 
both are silent,
resting just behind.

They sway with the field.

“You ready?”

She holds the grove,
the shade, the cross,
grave,
then heads to the house,
husband close behind until
she reaches back her hand
to find his waiting and they
wander their way
home.

More of the same? See Honor and Other Virtues here.

My style after a bit of poetry? A story. Find them here.

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