Green and green in flooded terraces. Rows
mirrored in the flooding irrigation—
the reflection, a kind of brimmed silence.
A potential. Across the swath of light,
the bright fields, in the wind, ribbon images.
The intimacy of a beloved kissed
into oblivion. The new lights rise
along the rows, tender in their tendrils
of warmth, extinct with potentials. Extinct
in the early shift of irrigation,
the sprinkler heads shush all intention.
While a single thought—to stand straight and see
the horizon beyond the razored green.
To see yourself in the mirroring streams.