Summer Crop Poem by Guy Northam
Summer Crop
Fields of blue;
The considered champaign
Of the farmer;
The beautiful profit.
Azure acres
To the eyes' limit,
The sky's limit;
Blue on blue.
Destruction there,
Somewhere,
In the fires
Of the forest grass
Approaching.
Black smoke,
The Horned Beast.
The horns as pincers,
Encircling the land.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: loss
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5/1/2024 5:23:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
