Whispers of the Field

In fields of green, where the wildflowers play, In the warm sun’s embrace of the noonday, The whispers of nature, soft and pure, Call the weary soul to rest and cure.

Each petal tells stories of rain and sun, Of laughter, of time, and the race once run, A sanctuary, the heart’s own ground, Where peace can be found, where love abounds.

So linger here, let the world slip by, In nature’s chorus, under the wide sky, For in the whisper of the field’s array, You will find your way, you will find your way.

• Robert Penn Warren