A drive through the country To soothe the mind An emerald field is a sight for sore eyes Picture the pose of the figure underneath Shoulders and hips draped in green The manor on high Painted white The glory of man and the model of life Every tree hides a cloud Of trembling cicadas, The invisible crowd But one honeyed chirp Of a cricket in the grass Cuts through the blast These fields stoke desire I'm full to the throat but begging for more Drinking the air that rolls off the pasture Scent of sweetgrass And blood in the soil