Wheat
When these fields of adolescent wheat still green ape the waving ocean I’d love to ache a little more. It hurts to see such beauty. It tears at the navel wound that proves that long ago there was a cord that did much more than bind. Now it’s tied and (more troubling still) healed. Which means the pain of separation has been pacified. Which means something wildly vital has died. I’d love to ache a little more.
Peter Bisson
Posted at 08:29h, 20 AugustThank you Greg!
Sharon Walters
Posted at 09:47h, 20 AugustOne of your best!
Sharon Walters
Posted at 09:47h, 20 AugustOne of you best!
Maria Skarzynski
Posted at 10:42h, 20 AugustSuper beautiful !!
Roger Yaworski, SJ
Posted at 11:37h, 20 AugustThanks Greg,
Roger
Michelle Mahoney
Posted at 13:54h, 20 AugustAnother one to add to my collection of great poems! Thank you, Greg!
Karen Arthurs
Posted at 14:14h, 20 AugustAn arousing reflective posture on life…..