Out Seeing The Fields

Briskly, rising to the sky

Cold, clouds rushing past

Flying, hopes to never land

Light. Streatching out my hand

Out seeing the fields

What is a dream and

can you tell me what is real?

Everyone else is home in bed

and I’m out here lost in my own head

out seeing the fields

Freeze, crystal on the bridge

Trees. Frozen diamond leaves

Ice, stiffening the wheat

Wind, underneath my feet

Out seeing the fields

What is a dream and

can you tell me what is real?

Everyone else is home in bed

and I’m out here lost in my own head

out seeing the fields

I only feel close to you when I’m under open sky

I only feel guided when I’m free to question why

Only when I smell the earth upon my face

will I ever be free to fly from this place

Out seeing the fields

Leaving the place I thought was home before

Picking up my shoes and I’m flying out the door

Can’t seem to walk to go back there anymore

So I’m out seeing the fields

Morning, wings against the ledge

Frost trees painted on the glass

Snow, covering the streets

Home, warm beneath my sheets

- by Dawud Wharnsby