Gold is Nature’s Final Hue

Roads here are on berms to check

flood water, and I’m looking back

at a vast openness while waiting

for my wife to return by van. 

I’m far enough away that it’s

hard to make out the man lighting

a line of fires in the distance to clear

a rice field.  It’s dusk and a high,

slate black cloud to the south is

like a cliff pinching the man

and his fires to a barely seen

line of trees.  Anticipation hangs

in the air.  The lusty fires blaze

with the color of pure gold.

FG 25 October 2012

All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.

Frost was wrong.  Gold is not nature’s first hue, it is her last.  Love like youth is wasted on the young, no?  Weather here is not quite drop-dead beautiful, but she clutching her bosom crying, “I’m coming sweetie.  This is the big one.”