Wind pulls through the emerald sea,
Whipping and lashing.
Waves spread
Across tall stalks,
Rough and fatal.

There you stand.
Legs obscured by the pale green field
You and I buoys in an ocean.

The dust is an earthy odor
When we shuffle through the grass
Sweet and stale;
Honey from a grave.

“Come back,” I sigh
As your small shadow
Disappears over the sun drenched horizon.