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Poem

Hectic red steadfast on earth and anchored fast
Caught in the beginning of the end of working days
To yield a common profit from the land as harvested
On beams of yellow sun light set in motion in the Spring

Beings on oceans of colors with orange poppy fields
That only feel the warmth of winds circumference
Along with golden wheat that is ready to be taken in
Before eaten by Winter strangers and their friends 

In a spectacle of hills rolled up in evening green
Beds of vegetation dream of wheat in foreign lands           
Under blankets of sky pulled up to open window ledges 
A baker gives full attention to making bread

The aroma drifts to the seashore close 
While Spring goes back to sleep at peace 
And near enough to hear the ocean break
Collapsing waves upon the shells already there

Someone in the wooden cabin listens fervently
Watching out for Summer whispering in
An open vase or vessel fills with country air
Prepared to hold the flowers of the field

Cut with kindness ready for the dinner table
Bread and water are there for company
As well as comfort for some weary bones
An old couple still find romance in holding hands

Vast open lands that radiant with natures colors
Require receptacles made of clay to celebrate
To display the beauty of the day while saying grace

Wind and rain bring back the wheat fields from the past
Swaying flags of yellow gold on beams of light
Anchored from the soil up to the sky
Boundaries emergent to lift the fleeting eye 

Flickering light might indicate the end of power
Only shade can hide a candle going out at night
In reference to the Purity Wheat Domain
It remains the same in brightness

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