The Golden Field

In the winter time when skies are blue,

there in the sage grass, the colors call you.

This spare, still and quiet scene,

where the leafless tree calls you to lean.

Come, come to the golden field,

under a glowing sun that warms the chill.

Between the stems, you lay and wait,

as spates of light weave through this place.

Recline, recline on this ancient land,

cupped inside God’s holy hand.

Gari Hatch

08-18-2010