Come With Me

Come with me
Come stand with me in this field
Come watch the sun turn red and fade
And feel the wind
Come with me and hold my hand
And close your eyes and feel this joy.
Come run with me
And laugh and sing
I want you here
Because you are my friend
Come sit with me
In this tall grass
And we can hide and talk
Let the earth turn dark
And the crickets lull
Come walk with me
Through this tall grass
Let's think of peace
And smell the distant rain
And not be sad when in the middle
We part
Because we'll walk again through this field
Hand in hand
In the morning

9-22-1996

I read this poem at a poetry reading night at college. I said, before I read the poem, that I thought that God made Northeast Arkansas so flat so that we could see the sunsets better. One of my classmates snorted, and I felt stupid for having said it. But afterward, Dr. Davis (one of my English profs) said, "Thank you for your words tonight, Amy. Good words."