Miguel, July
Breeze blows across the meadow
Deep in ryegrass, bluestem, fescue.
An ocean of softness bending to the wind's touch.
The waving grass
conceals his journey
across the field as he changes water,
A tiny figure
Wading to his shoulders in meadow hay,
A ripple sliding
Across all things standing still.
He surfaces,
The flash of his shovel blade
Like a fish jumping in a green sea.