Amber Waves
~~~
Oh, fair stalks of ripened grain
Flowing like the lion’s mane
Stirring like a golden sea
As west winds blow the plain
~~~
There in yellowed tapestry
I feel the joy of being free
The rooted, fully fruited
As far as the eye can see
~~~
But soon will come the hand
To reap you from your land
And the beauty will be lost
‘Come barren where I stand
~~~
Oh, fair stalks of ripened grain
In winter, you cannot here remain
But seasons pass, as they should
In autumn, we will meet again
~~~
commonsensiblyspeaking 
and that is so lucky, that it doesn’t end, just takes a rest
Thank you, Beth!
What a wonderfully vivid picture you painted in my mind with these words. When I lived in Lancaster County, I was always looking at the fields of corn, wheat and tobacco from the time they first pushed through the soil until the time all was harvested and the fields were barren. Winter came, and snow covered that bare soil, but our minds always knew that it was only temporary, and crops would rise again in the spring.
Thanks sis! Every field or forest is the perfect reminder that we live in a world of constant renewal. Love you tons!
Beautiful! The precise words, the perfect rhyme and a clear, unmistakable image! Wonderful work my friend!
Thank you, Francisco!
You’re welcome Brad!
When amber waves, I wave back.👋
You are a hoot, my friend! Thank you!
I’m grateful that autumn always returns!
Me too! Thank you, Kristian! Much love!
Beautifully written Brad. There is something about the fields that make me happy and this piece describes that feeling so perfectly. I watch the crops and pray for the farmers who are small ones here in NC. Sending big hugs and love, Joni