Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 32.0: August 6th, 2007

Silver Fields
by Belinda Roddie

Feel the wind

It touches your skin

Brown as the soil

From which fields of time

Are not gold, but silver

In their age

It’s enough to make travelers bewildered

The fields are my home

Each stalk is an arm

From which grows the wheat

Their figures caress

My face and my chest

As I walk in the morning dew

That forms in my eyes as tears

Not ones of sorrow

But drops of a new harvest tomorrow

The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since August 6th, 2007.