A dream of mine is to walk—no, run—in a sea of long-stemmed, wheat-like flowers

I will wear white, and my hair will be thick and long and kinky and curling against beads of sweat on my temple and trickling down the back of my neck

The sun will boast over a cloudless sky. It will be hot, but not too hot, and the wind will pour like a ladle of cool water over my dark, clammy skin

I will run and have no fear of bugs nor predators nor snakes nor pits in the ground. I will run and not stumble

I will run and smile and chase after Him. I’ll run to Him. I’ll run with Him.

To the east, to the north, the south, and the west—the field does not end

Like an ocean teeming with majestic creations, my sea of flowers will swell with dragonflies and butterflies and creatures winged in riotous color. It will buzz with flight and sing a song of wind-whipped stalks, waving as I run past with quick, light steps

The field will cheer me on, clapping and swaying and saying in prose, “Look! There she goes!” And, “Look! He is with her!”

And then, as the sun dips and the heat cools and the breeze dwindles and the clouds gather,

…as the song descends to a murmur…

I will drop to the ground, surrounded on all sides in the soft embrace of velvety stems, sweating and spent and content and at peace

I will curl up in my field, my curls at His feet, and I will sleep in His peace and dwell in His safety.

And there, again, I will dream of a walk—no, a run—in a sea of long-stemmed, wheat-like flowers