Grain (an acrostic poem)

Image: news.okstate.edu/articles/agriculture/images/2021_wheat-chickasha2500.jpg

Growing rows of amber waved in the hot wind

Reaching for one of the sheathes, she pulled the kernels free

And rubbed them against each other in her hands, freeing the seeds from their husks

It released a wonderful smell of summer turning toward fall

Nodding she walked back to the farmhouse.  Tomorrow they would harvest.