It is sometimes hard to imagine
myself as a child again, back in
their day, of eleven or eight,
when I ran open-armed through the
fields of waving wheat wheels
that tunneled from one circle to
another and back again.
It wasn’t really a lunar landing, or
something from outer space,
but back then, I did imagine
it could have been.
Chad, thank you for your poignant and graceful ideas and thoughts. These are poems etched in the reader's heart.