Tags
bliss, connection, fearless, grace, gravel roads, kentucky, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, restless, southern, spirit, wisdom, woman
fertile now
these cotton fields
endless rows of waiting –
sometimes the stars
sit low within her legs
counting back with disbelief
nights before
the harvest –
barns already empty
apron worn to rags
frigid halls
and ice cold floors
chatter of the aged
men to speak of women
down the way –
dreamers sleep in twisted knots
whispers of another
and what became of heroes
blue and grey
dearest thought of
morning strolls –
rusted nails and ribbon
boxes rift with hats we never wore
stretch the line
from post to porch
mark the miles for minding
carve our days
and make of love
our chore
renew the vow
of infamy –
seven more than sisters
held to certain fortune
I remain
silver spoons
and let my lesson
keep me from returning –
dared by demons
watching now
to know the way
I came
tornadoday 
Brings back memories of another life and wishes for escape. Beautifully written, Bobbie. I can see the fields and feel the cold
xo
Paul
Yes. Funny thing about fields (and I was reminded just last weekend) is that you can get lost (even in your own field). I was at one of those cornfield mazes they have for Halloween and wondered what would happen if someone couldn’t find their way out. I was there for an hour or two and a couple of times, I had no idea which way to go (although I knew that worst case, I could go in one direction and just cut between the rows)… But cornfields (especially) are tricky. You think you’re going home and end up in Memphis! 😀 Thank you, Paul. ~ Love, Bobbie
beautifully written indeed.
Thank you, Julianne. My heart is blessed by your kindness. ~ Much love, Bobbie
Loved the Greek touch here..
Love & Light
………where one ends, another begins………..pull a thread and the universe falls in………. Thank you, Mira. I love the way you remind me of the reasons I write (and the reasons I love). ~ Evermore, Bobbie
Memories come back to us often to remind us of that treasure which we always yearned for that perfection so elusive, trying to get as close as we can again to it…for as we live and grow and blossom more, we realize what we really want and need to be real for us to make us complete…always so beautiful Bobbie. Much love to you always, Wendell!