Turning timeless pages of magazine gloss,
I pause—
caught up in the captured autumn of life.
Feeling the ripeness, high up to the very fingertips,
of child gleaning
oats, barley, wheat—
golden kernels put to
mouth,
teeth,
and tongue.
Sweet and filling—
tasting landscape of wheat against sky,
a forever knowing—
not knowing—
sown boundaries of the good earth.
Timeless pages swallowed up in memory—
harvesting,
whetted finger to the task,
woman reaping grain—
and, captured—
saturated in blue-gold.