Field Leaves

A penciled flower turns to carving

Gradually composed thin as nightfall 

As if expectant pages turn to crops 

In that little while apart from 

Being loamed in darkness the book 

As a life might sprout green thereby

Willing a life form into acreage

In the field. The field living to protect

The book whose pages are these how many

Questions erupt faster than crops faster than 

Expectancy as confidence lifts off

And the book as within a garden still 

May document free to do free to 

Flourish free to spill stories upon 

The wilderness crowded with thought 

Akin to cities lost in fields 

Of crops flourishing unseen among 

The pages of one book at a time