the soil is burnt with light,
its edges kissed with the soft lips
of silken sunshine,
leaves pressed between teeth
and wrinkled fingertips.

yellow smears against the horizon
like paint (lamp-posts-in-the-rain
yellow and leaves-caught-in-light-rays
yellow) filling lifeless hours
with endless wandering.

my soul roams astray, between
virescent stalks thick as sugar
cane (I forgot it here long ago)
and on days when the air turns
to honey in my hands, i return,

to the waves of color
that lap a country road which
fades into nothing five miles from here,
in the hum of eternal repetition
and calm of vintage existence,
to bathe in the shade of sunflowers
with my soul.