the fields

Morning dew on gold summer grass scent.
We're settled in for the day,
by the whispering creek.
Slightly aware
of country sounds on the edge of this,
our guitar escape.
Not far from home
but far enough to feel we're alone.
A part of you is still there, I'm sure.
Looking up to clear blue sky,
sipping morning coffee
and strumming away,
while I fill my tattered notebook with the moment.