It seems to me as if the bowl of heaven
inundates this restless earth
in dreams of glowing blossoms’ glow.
Tonight, zephyrs gently stroke
ripening wheat ears on fertile soil,
and diffused moonlight conjures up illusions
of waves rippling on calm waters
beneath a star filled night sky.
My soul, still burdened
with past day’s humdrum, spreads wings,
then, clumsy as a pelican struggling
to become airborne, then glides
above the sea of beckoning grain
toward a safe haven. Home.
© 2016 Jerry Kemp