Moondrops slither over cornfields

Crop circles where lovers play

A roll in the hay

While the dark wheat watches

And so do I.

The blackening sky

Casts lonely shadows on her face

She rises with grace and haste

Dressing while he watches

Flesh silken swatches.

Wheat leans back in the darkness

And so does he, as I watch

From under the elder tree

Not daring to move or breathe

As wind stirs falling leaves.

I remain in blackness

As they go, holding hands

In silence, wheat swishing

Me wishing

That I was them.