I gaze upon the lush field
Seemingly Soft and Serene
It’s cut evenly on top
Symmetrically precise like a newly mowed lawn
I pedal towards it
Its beauty, so familiar, draws me near

As I’m on the dirt trail I block out the world around me
Nothing else matters
No one else is there
It’s just me and my old friend

I admire the wild poppies growing on top of him
A luxury we do not find in America

The field and I communicate
He understands my thoughts,
He understands my nature,
He understands my pain

I don’t say a word
Words cannot be spoken to the field
Not English, Kiene Deutsch
The Field, he just understands, das Feld, er einfach versteht