Tips of wheat brush gently across my fingers
I weep
But there are no tears that stream
Or muffled sobs
Only me in a field of wheat
A place among the stars
Why here?
In this field of golden stalks and grey sky
I'm answered by the breeze
Caressing my face with gentle embrace
Sight fades for feeling's sake
The illusion of life slips away
I am left with these golden stalks and breeze
Here I am free
Among the wheat with my lonely tree
I rest peacefully

A person with physical beauty lacking
insight is like a seashell without pearl.

I click
and click
and click,
mining new words
to mean new things.

wrote my nightmares
In fresh falling snow
Hoping they would disappear
Drip by drip
Like icicles from the tree
Crackling goodbye

you beg me
to write about
the sky and the grass
or better yet amber waves
of grain

the best i can do to
accommodate you
is paint the sunflowers
at the highway's edge

but not the ones on the
median
for some reason they seem
to have lost their luster

Whit Howland © 2020

I fell in love with moonlight-
in my darkness, shining so bright.
She danced in the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But moments in time soon burn away,
and moonlight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that trickle of light will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for moonlight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with moonlight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight
and faded out at end of night.