On Such A Glorious Day

On such a glorious day as this
It only takes the slightest breeze
To move the wheat in golden waves,
Swaying in measured dance,
Most often unnoticed by the eyes of Man.
 
On such afternoons, I neglect my book,
Placed in sunlight on the table,
Pages turned by reviewing winds
Speed reading four pages on a whim.
Uncomprehended, the breeze reconsiders,
Turns twelve pages back to read again.
 
Drowsily, I take my place in hammock
Under shade of shag-bark hickories,
Almost fall asleep but for the call of birds,
Alert, then falling into silence,
All the more profound…
They anchor lightly upon close branches overhead,
Then stir to flight, beyond my vision.
Perhaps I will dream of where they land.