Like a Million Whispers

I step around the bend, the wood planks welcoming my weight. 

The corn, now my horizon and unfamiliar friend.

Its tall stalks are all I can see, no land beyond them, they shield me. 

It’s quiet in still time, the only noise a nearby horse flehming alongside my exhales of sighs.

Then wind comes, its breath gently washing over the sea of green grain like a sower using his thumb.

The rustling of corn, like a million whispers, a sensation of an idea being reborn.

Whispers of make-believe worlds and stories of the past, unrealistic expectations taunting my eardrums asking me to come back.

The nearby barn reflects the setting suns red hue, the only piece breaking up the view.

I close my eyes, absorbing the wave of sound, filled with restlessness abound. 

My broken thoughts, my margins I will try to mend, until I meet the corn and its whispers again.