The Voice Issue 30: July/August 2017 - Page 29


Walk with me

through this field,

watch the wind

swing from the branches

of the oak trees,

feel the sun beckon

the freckles out of our faces,

we will look as if we have been

painted by Pollock,

spattered with beauty marks

from the sun's paintbrush,

feel the blades of grass sprout

between our toes

and goosebumps rise

on our necks,

listen to the tiger lily butterflies

whisper as they crawl

up your arms,

be still while I weave our fingers

into knots and bows

I will entwine promises

between our knuckles,

look closely at the words that

the clouds write in the sky,

amongst all of the flowers in this field

you are the most magnificent,

so reach for the blue horizon

and when the sun rises again

I will meet you in the field

and we will lie in this



Walk With Me

-Semacdonald, Sheldon, VT