Out In The Fields With . . .

Out in the Fields With God

The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday

Among the fields, above the sea, among the winds at play,

Among the lowing of the hersds, the rustling of the trees,

Among the singing of the birds, the humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might happen, I cast them all away,

Among the clover-scented grass, Among the new-mown hay,

Among the husking of the corn,  Where drowsy poppies nod,

Where ill thoughts die and good are born.

Out in the fields with God.

.  .  .  .  .  .

.  .  .  .  .  .

Nothing suits me better

than to lie down

on the ground

in a field,

Mother Earth

cradling below,

Father Sky

covering above.

 

 

 

Yesterday’s “June in January” day pulled me to The Farm, where I laid myself down in a golden, grassy bed with almost too-blue covers over my head. So blue, those covers, so endless. Up and up and up until .. .. .. until what? Until forever? Until always?

Punctuating the brilliance was a single winged flier, black as night against the blue till the tipping of a wing-turned-diamond by the sun flashed a momentary mirror in the sky, signaling to an unseen connection.

.  .  .  .  .  .

.  .  .  .  .  .

A mile hight at least she was, and

floating lazily

on unseen currents,

her  only companion

a kite half a mile below,

its long, graceful tail

slowly writing

love letters against the sky.

.  .  .  .  .  .

Out in the Fields With God, Anonymous

.  .  .  .  .  .

© Amy Pierce and In Spiritual Wonder, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Pierce and In Spiritual Wonder with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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