… it’s the barley field I see.
A golden ocean of barley.
It’s not like the other grain-fields.
Maybe it’s those inward-looking eyes
gone into it so it becomes heaven?
A fall-colored sky, mild,
with no harvesters and no scythes.
Sunday Sayings: An extract of Olav Hauge’s “Barley Field” for this B&W photo of my local Victorian church, amidst fields of ripening barley and colorized for vintage effect in Lightroom
PoetryPix 