Alone under the golden sunset
I watch those amber waves of grain, the ones like in the song.
I watch as their wispy stalks tip
back and forth,
a ballet in the summer, a waltz for the fall.
And with the harvest they lie down
and sleep
as farm hands like dreams collect them and carry them to far-off places.

Tonight I will lay me down and sleep.
As I close my eyes and drift away
I pray
that those hands will come down,
cradle my body and lift me up,
rock me back
and forth,
show me a place so far from this
that I cannot catch a single glimpse of myself through the veil of distance.