With our backs to the prevailing winds,
each back spread wide to catch bursts that push us forward,
we sailed the wheaten field as adventurers,
with golden waves darting and dancing around us in gusty cadence.
The wind howled in our ears, and the sun beat upon our foreheads,
and we allowed ourselves to be carried along by the destinies,
where a shift of breeze here or there curved our paths,
and brought us along side each other, a flotilla of small arms and legs.
Each foot pushed forward by overbalanced hips and backs,
we sailed through the gold to a spot upon a hill,
where even “field sailors” such as we halted, and pressed our backs up against the winds,
to stop and marvel at oceans before us for as far as eyes can see, or the hearts imagine.
At this age, not yet aware of being boy and girl,
or of the steady drumbeats of pressing lives on our minds,
we could simply be two sailors in wheat,
and look down from our hilly crows nest to golden oceans of wind blown beauty.
Our hearts could simply love, not of passion or lust,
but of sharing innocently something beyond the normal.
We hugged with joy as we scoured the golden wheat waves below,and the azurite skies above us,
where the contrast between them spoke more of opportunity than of borders.
Then small hands reached out, and little fingers of two 7 year old friends entwined,
eyes ablaze with the wonders around them,
each full of a future where anything on God’s earth is possible,
and we watched the power of God’s finger on the land, in awe of a majesty not yet known.
And as our minds finally filled with the glory of the images,
we once again broadened our sail-like backs,
and allowed the winds of fate to push us back to our futures,
where the adventures of life waited laden and full
for two adventurers such as we.