A peak experience recalled


Fields of wheat

I am standing in a field of wheat nearly harvest ready,

my eyes are tightly shut, arms outstretched to steady

as I slowly place my foot.

My ungainly faltering gait reminds me I should stop.

I am completely blind, motionless amidst the crop

when joy untold I find.

Other senses are invoked as sight has now been shed,

insects hum and sing, a symphony by Grasshopper led,

accents by corvid wing.

I feel warm solar lips brush tenderly against my hair,

and hear the rush, of wheat flock sway by fussing air

toying without crush.

Spice tinged scent, barely there from a hidden source,

pollen and cereal dust, birdsong a melody of Morse,

caught on sudden Gust.

I relish this sensual treat, that caught me by surprise,

the moment I closed my eyes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s