Walking down fields at the end of October is a somber experience.
Just a few short months before, the first tender green sprouts of wheat showed their heads. The blackbirds sang at dawn. The first swallows appeared.
A month or two later the corn was up shoulder-high. The sky a brilliant blue, dragon clouds flew in the sky. The first swallow chicks hatched.
As the days grew hotter, the grain matured and lost its green quality turning golden-yellow. The cicadas screeched their song for hours. The wind rustled among the stalks. The swallows swooped across the sky.
The harvesters came and cut the wheat, leaving nothing but stubble in the fields. The sky is steel grey, the swallows are gone, the ducks are leaving. Only the ravens crow at dawn.
The cycle of life, passing of the seasons. The fields seemingly devastated now will lay silent for a while but soon it will all begin again. Maybe next year, it’ll be barleycorn.
flash of illumination
life returns in spring