National Poetry Month Day Thirteen
word group: land--heartland--music--heart
In the heartland
wind plays music
through wheat fields.
Crows explode
into summer sky
too blue to look at
with bare eyes.
But if I close my eyes
and let the music fill me
allow the wind to kiss my skin
like fingers on a harp strings.
This land beneath my feet
becomes my soul
and my heart is free.
In the heartland
wind plays music
through wheat fields.
Crows explode
into summer sky
too blue to look at
with bare eyes.
But if I close my eyes
and let the music fill me
allow the wind to kiss my skin
like fingers on a harp strings.
This land beneath my feet
becomes my soul
and my heart is free.
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