Fields
A Poem
In my mind there are fields,
Great fields, of burnt gold and tousled green,
Spread and open under the sun as though
The Earth was throwing open her arms and
Letting the heat settle into her ribs
There are hills, and valleys cutting deep into the rock,
But most beautiful are my fields because they are free
In my fields, butterflies dust the clouds,
And dragonflies leave their footprints on the air
And birds master the sky, wringing and twisting
Ropes of blue, and there are horses in the fields,
Running, running, running with the wind,
Hooves shining like copper,
Manes rippling like gold,
Chasing a horizon kissed with mist
And smelling like unanswerable questions
In my mind there are fields,
Great fields, with butterflies and dragonflies
And birds and horses
And dreams and questions with no answers
And freedom
