Writings

the golden sunlight dances
off the tassels of the taller-than-me corn
painting them a
 sandillion
shades of yellow gold
and then bounds up over laughing treest
o play on the riverwater
dappling the unsuspecting ripples
with its amber glow
and then disappearing for a time in the shade of trees in a 
long
dark
green
emerald
tunnel
and
then
suddenly
reappearing in a blaze of light retinting everything goldenrod
and making its joyous way through
the rows of corn all lined up in perfection
and then more trees
more shade
and small pockets of cornfield
abrupt valleys
and rolling hills
and the sunlight still dancing merrily
over all.

the golden days of summer.
there’s nowhere i’d rather be.