The Ballad of the Summer Grains
It is a day of swallows and grasshoppers, of white clouds and suntanned arms. In the yellow field wheat ears burn, lit by fantasies. One of wheat, one of rye. Summer love, holiday love is in the air. Under the thickness of the harvest, their roots search, call each other. But the space between them doesn't shrink. It remains still. Sometimes a breeze, frivolous and light, in love with ballads, sings and brings the two lovers together. A brief current through their stems, an exchange of ripe grains, two emboldened love oaths which the breeze carries away in its breath.
|
10
favs |
1015 views
17 comments |
101 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
First published in Literati Magazine. Thank you Editors.
Theme: the pandemic.
Other stories by Erika Byrne-Ludwig
Tags
This story has no tags.
Comments
You must
log in
to post comments.
Strong beginning for the piece. Great work in a small space.
"Under the thickness of the harvest, their roots search, call each other. But the space between them doesn't shrink."
*
I shall think of this swift, sweet romance from now on with every bite of my morning toast!
Beautiful and full writing. Wonderful details. Love the opening sentence, love the breeze in love with ballads, an exchange of ripe grains. Love the grounded feeling and then the boundlessness.
Ah, summer love. *
Crop love! I love this! *
Electricity metaphor is nice. Good work.
Thank you all for your always interesting comments.
Enjoy your breakfast, Mathew...
There’s a luxuriousness here that is powerful. Love that opening. *
Thank you John.
beloved.
Thank you Amantine.
Beautifully rendered, Erika!
Thank you Kitty.
"Sometimes a breeze, frivolous and light, in love with ballads, sings and brings the two lovers together."
Lovely.
*
Thank you Bill.
A pleasure to host this Erika... x
Thank you Amantine. Grateful.