The Wheat Field Is a Frontier of Gold

The blinking downing sun of August adorns the very tall stalks of wheat with his last golden warm sunrays... as the green kernels bend on stems. The grasshoppers rest on soft leaves, awaiting more wafts of cooler breezes; black ants carry wicks in small droves, until they reach the fragrant groves. It's two months before harvest time, the eyes of the farmer show no dire; he can't wait for the kernels to ripen, in mid October he will know his gain. Delve in his mind, his thankfulness is gratitude for a year well-earned; sweat has paid off with huge profits, the wheat field is a frontier of gold.