A drive through the country
To soothe the mind
An emerald field is a sight for sore eyes
Picture the pose of the figure underneath
Shoulders and hips draped in green
The manor on high
Painted white
The glory of man and the model of life
Every tree hides a cloud
Of trembling cicadas,
The invisible crowd
But one honeyed chirp
Of a cricket in the grass
Cuts through the blast
These fields stoke desire
I'm full to the throat but begging for more
Drinking the air that rolls off the pasture
Scent of sweetgrass
And blood in the soil
