Flatness is not dullness
but an open soul
void of pretense
and distraction.
The straight look that
these fields can give
you on an Autumn
dawn cold and bright
disarms and disavows
the hubris of corn
and tended rows
that we place upon her.
When she sits there empty
and without the spoils
of diesel and rubber
she sits as she is
and always will be.
The curve of her back,
the subtlety of her
outstretched hand, the
beckon of the
wind across her
chaff and stalk strewn
rows.
Enter her spareness
all open and bare
her ever-virgin embrace
and know that you
are loved beyond
your ability to love.