barley fields
nod their heads
solemnly to the scent
of oncoming rain,
stems creaking
in anticipation.
their stems creak
and sway,
rustled by approaching
fingers of wind.
cows stop
their wandering hooves,
caked with mud
and wet hair,
lowering their bodies
into dew-damp grass,
an act of submission
to the imminent storm.
their solemn eyes are
all too familiar with what approaches
over the shadowed horizon.
and as the air
grows heavier
with threats
of cloudburst
the cows turn their eyes
to face the swollen sky.
and as the wind
picks up,
the frantically bobbing
heads of barley
begin to rattle
with a raindrop musicality.
and as the tension
in the landscape swells,
the looming
rainclouds begin
to leak their long-held burden.
| My Nationality: Caught in the Middle of Red, White, and Blue | Poetry |
| How does my nationality affect me? Read an essay about my binationality and how it has shaped me. | From oral storytelling to slam poetry, poetry is an art form that predates literacy itself. |
| Read here | Learn here |