The Drafted Stream


Returning to the fields
to lay down
one last time
in the soft beauty
that once held me.
My fall this time
will be felt inside
the land unendingly.
Here where it meets
the sky on the horizon
capturing me between.
I am born here
so naturally
here released.
The feathering wheat
lifts its face to the
strange and
final quiet
taking me along
in its silent
wind-drawn wake.
Before the jarring snap
my broken listless sigh
I hear kind words
spoken over
a lifetime.
A compendium of
language and love
I leave behind
except slivers of
the most sweet
I take to the open
unknown peace.
I sleep in the glinted barrel
give in to the drafted stream.
With a graceful spin
diaphanous white
my dancer body drops
conforming to the
cradle of the land.
A blanket over
my eyes
the wheat’s caress
will be
a stunning release
into finality.