But wait- the field, do you see it?

Some people, they look at you and conclude

That you are at best

Just a waiting room, a front desk reception 

Or a  mildly amusing work of art-

And on your worst days you may feel

Haunted, like there’s a curse you can’t shake

Then there are those in your life 

Who look at you- and you feel known

As if a light poured  through corridors

You didn’t even know existed in your own soul

Secret alleyways, mortar and brick in an upwards spiral

A palace coming into focus from the  mist 

Your heart may be frozen over for good, a tundra

But in their eyes they show you the field of wildflowers 

That will come 

Tangerine Poppies, Goldeneye,

the Silvery Lupines with hummingbirds

 at their petals 

Not in outline but full color