Far-Distance

The field is awash 

with green and tan blades of grass,

vestiges of last years crop and hints of the new. 

The sky is dark blue overhead, with clouds puffy and petite 

rolling in. A lone tree stands in the center of the field, brown 

and foliage as though it were an old man, in the middle of budding life, 

slowly putting on his hat to say "Good day to you. Many years 

I have seen, and many more will come, 

but for the moment, you are my

 grandchild. 

Sit with

 me, and 

I will teach 

you the 

patience 

God taught me."

A breeze stirs the grass as the tree 

shakes its wizened branches.