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Smango5 posted this thread...
Oct. 14, 2013 at 11:50 pm

On the neverending fields of Iowa 
There are farms:  
Houses, barns, silos and groves of trees that are dark silhouettes 
Against the colorful morning sky 

The sun is rising. 

At the horizon  
There is a purple tinge that turns into a rosy pink. 
The pink flows gently into orange, the orange into a soft yellow, then into green and last into a pale blue. 

And up above it all 
There is still the rich blue of the night sky 
That has not yet disappeared. 

The sun is coming. 

But before it comes 
I start to feel drowsy 
And fall asleep  
To the sound of the breeze 
Blowing gently  
Through the long prairie grass, 
To the soft ground under me 
And with the array of colors 
Imprinted in my mind.

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