husk3 Home, walking through a sun-kissed field, I stumble upon them

in spontaneous concert, quiet husks swaying in the breeze.

They whisper lyrics to each other

One blushed moptop leaning into the next.

The silky fibers mingle like the sweaty strands of longhaired boys

An almost silent song.

The brush of bodies sweeps me up and carries me along.

I am happy as sun and breeze breathe hot air on my neck

To match their rhythm

To join their windswept dance.