Soft and green and fresh as winter wheat
on undulating fields
in springtime’s early thaw,
you’re always in my thoughts.
The breeze that blows when young boys play:
the ball, aloft, as all eyes wait
for its return to Earth.
The River flowing green and deep
beyond all sounding.
A perfect stone found lying
in an open field
that draws you in and holds you
safe and warm and lovely.
by Paul Guernsey, Copyright © 1982/08/30, revised 2002/01/28, 2018/06/30
Question [from Susan, Wife, Lovely Assistant, and Biggest Blog Fan (based on number of facebook comments)]:
Which area inspired this?
The thumb of Michigan, specifically, M-81 between Cass City, Michigan and Caro. There is nothing more beautiful than that color green and the delicate softness of the young grasses growing skyward all the winter long, but not revealed till now, completely hidden until the spring, when melting snows reveal their presence. Farmer magic.
I also see a tractor turning over the rich dark Earth of a gently sloping field as snow has begun to fall. On one side of the tractor lies the pure white virgin snow, on the other side is his rich black fertile dirt. I think I have a poem for that image, as well, but have not re-discovered it yet.