The wind in the plain

All morning long, the winter wheat stood stock-still in its ordered rows;
come midday, as the clouds roll in, it enters into thrashing throes,
now delving down, now rising up, a greening sea though far inland,
a playground for some mystic mover brandishing a hearty hand,
and in amongst the crazing crops a harvest mouse is rushing here
and there and then and back again, her beady eyes alight with cheer,
her reddish fur a-ripple and her whiskers bristling in the breeze,
until the early evening, when the plain once more may stand at ease.

Poetry by Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2019-01-14 at 19:49

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website!

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Wonderfully done. Beautifully written and so sweet to read aloud. I love it.

A beautiful poetic word-painting! And I like your use of fixed number of syllables in every line.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Glorious! And sixteen syllables per line! Wow!

jim The PoetBay support member heart!
I love the inland sea.

There are many wonderful things to find within this poem.