Wheatfield With Cypresses
Zeke Roth-Reynolds
A golden field of wheat ripples and undulates,
tickled by the westerly wind.
Floating on the sea of gilt grass is a group of shrubs,
like an island, or lone tumbleweed.
Dark, pointed, twisted trees stand on the golden sea’s shore,
and like a flame they hungrily reach for the sky.
They stab skyward as one,
like a deep green, mossy dagger.
Hills loom hazy and blue in the background,
like the rounded brows of a pod of approaching cetaceans.
They stand ready to spill and break over the golden sea,
Like the foam at the top of a boiling pot.
Overhead the sky roils,
a turbulent ceiling with whitecaps and troughs.
The ceiling slides over the scene,
with cauliflower heads continuously bobbing along in the tempestuous blue.
At the edge of a golden sea of grass
dark green trees spire upwards
as the sky washes by
and the blue hills bubble
and the golden grass flows.
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