The field
The air smells sweeter down here on the meadow
The breeze whistles and hums my name
Calling me here to lay and taste its nectar
In the field of land and honey
The golden pampas sway across the day
As I lay here for hours
While the morning, evening, and night shades over my skin
Giving me a calmness that helps me wonder in parallel spaces
Creating the six senses to know
Every cloud by shape and star by name
That mimics the freckles on my back
Tracing down my thighs to my ankles to the tip of my toes
Feeling the warm grass
—QWEEN
