It's Still Life

I Kept the Music

When I was not quite twelve,
I stood in the middle
of a green wheat field.

And I heard music.

I turned my hand flat
against the breeze as it
drew notes from everything
it touched. Sometimes

it was a small voice, or
a burst of wild laughter,
a nervous chatter.

It was background music for
white clouds chasing blue sky.

It was a change of weather
that spelled heat, and fireworks,
and bright light that found
its way through sheer cotton.

It was the year I learned
to keep myself to myself.

When I was not quite twelve
a small part of me was
already frozen.

But I always had that music.

for dVerse “Waiting on Wheat”   © Misky 2020

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