
naked square bales
no plastic marshmallows here
the only white is wildflower bloom
Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.
In between the green mountains
the silo holds grain
and most importantly hope.
Tilled earth soaks up the sun
and waits for the seeds
of this season’s purpose to be planted.
Down in the field the garden bed sleeps
dreaming of rain, flowers and food
and knowledgeable hands that coax and groom.