Green in the East and sweet as wind on wheat.
Sunrise behind us shimmered the blowing fields,
Softened sharp edges, hid deep ditches.
Casual as yeast and as dependable,
The prairie rose gently toward far mountains.
We were young; stroll or stride came easily.
Morning shadows slid harmless before us,
Summer afternoons ignored the threats behind.
Green became gold with hints of rose in beige,
Our path now black along the frosted foothills.
We smile a mix of rue and roses, face West,
Button our collars high and hold hands.
(c)Philomene Hood 2003
from Ride Home Through Scented Grass
Pearl Line Press, Zuni, VA
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