Yellow Fields

Eternity is here in yellow fields—
These things I love the late

Wind emulates
Untold fray of daylight through golden

Stalk sway, where cosmic
Legends once walked,

The lap of comets on roots,
The echo of sun in dirt furrow,

The mark of star dust
On trunks and dark boots—

So long now I’ve been
Soundless

In yellow fields,
My tempest

Nestled in forgetful
Swathes, palms opened to the heavens—

A future etched in constellation
Webs, the gesture boundless

Like firey night skies
Against the ocean of my iris

Wide opened—