We are all but transient passengers

within this life.

Like butterfly tourists

we flit through existence...

when my journey here is complete

my soul and spirit will be replete.

You'll find me within fields of wheat

That's how they keep the pastures sweet,

Growing in fields of corn and loam

Amidst the place where I call home.

between the barley, wheat and rye

love and friendship never die.

If you ever wish to contact me

Forever in perpetuity

Speak, whisper, quietly to the bees

you'll hear my answer in the breeze.