Desolate field,

cloudy grey sky

Vermillion flowers,

wish she could fly

Lace in her skirt

trailing through green

tickling her ankles,

stains still unseen

She dances and hums

to the beat of the trees,

the aire of the mountains,

the buzz of the bees

Light wind in her curls,

fallen apples around

Sweet calm in the air,

tired feet homeward bound

The flowers still vibrant,

the day is still long

The songbirds are quiet,

but the wind is not gone