Time Travel

Winter wheat
Dew-washed, green,
In the morning sun,
Cuts through the years
Like a knife
Opening wide my heart-
Sharp joy like pain
Shooting through me,
Memories flowing
In a gush that carries me back.

I’m sitting in the dew-kissed sun
Smelling grass crushed beneath me,
Watching the twitch
Of shining flank,
Hearing the swish of long tail,
And crunch and pull
Of grass torn in morning hunger,
Feeling the smooth cord in my hand
That connected us
In that time and space.
The cord is long gone,
But the heartstrings still remain.

Winter wheat
Dew-washed, green,
In the morning sun,
Cuts through the years.