Crisp Earth

I cross the field’s crunching cornstalks, brittle limbs whispering in a gentle breeze. The shadows slant across tree branches, narrowing daylight into frangible bits. The packed dirt is crisp underfoot, damp with autumn rains and hardening overnight to cement today’s footsteps in frost-crusted morning light, memorialized in nature’s ephemeral season. This poem is in responseContinue reading “Crisp Earth”