Gold

A day on the prairies.

Fields of gold, spun across the plains for miles.
Each row a different treasure, teasing the eyes with hidden pleasures.
This blanket spreads towards the heavens, you discern one from the other.
The blazing sun setting low, bathes the fields in a crimson glow.
Wind whips and the fields are blown, atop a hill I stand alone.
Gaze in wonder at all I see, so much splendor comes for free.
In these fields I am king, I sit and wonder what tomorrow brings.
Will great storms come and go, who can answer who does know.
Each day is it's own, and today the gold does grow.

Reviews

[Gee]

Firstly I tip my hat to you for your service to your country.
I like rhyming, enjoyed this, might be easier to read if broken down into 16/17 lines.
Cheers