Field, by Dane Hamann

Field of Oats Near Vejby, by Peter Christian Skovgaard (Denmark) 1843

Field

You’re standing out in the field
for no particular reason, the long

grass reaching up as if it wants
to be the trees. The warm air

fragrant with approaching rain,
the chirps and croaks of smaller

things still singing to each other.
This is where you breathe. Take

in the fullness of everything
that’s not you. The green oats

slowly wave like a sloshing sea
as the wind gently drapes

a humid blanket across your 
bare skin. The oats, still waiting

for the harvest, mimic the coming
rain. You’re content to listen

forever as the trees answer
the oats with the deeper applause

of their dark green leaves. The sweet
smell of the soil invites you to stay.

A square shape, reddish brown,
just barely peeks over the trees.

Is it the brick chimney of a house?
Your home? You’d rather not know.
​
Dane Hamann

Dane Hamann works as an editor for a textbook publisher in the southwest suburbs of Chicago. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from Northwestern University and later served as the poetry editor of TriQuarterly for over five years. His chapbook Q&A was published by Sutra Press and his micro-chapbooks have been included in multiple Ghost City Press Summer Series. His poetry collection, A Thistle Stuck in the Throat of the Sun, was recently published by Kelsay Books.