Lines on the wall

I imagine blowing grasses in a long field.  Their tips are yellowish green and they stretch as far as I can see.   I am way above them comfortably sitting, just watching.  My mind cools down in this space, because there is so much of it, just going.  After a long day this view brings the breath I had forgotten about, and I take it in, way in and release.  With it goes a lot of trouble, no trouble really, but living and working is hard.  Things come up, and the days are long.  I see these words working their way across the page and I imagine how personal it is even to share such little things.  Now a stronger breeze comes up, strong enough to give the grasses a voice.  They chant out a song, and their earthy smell reaches me.  I am somber here, no mood at all.  I will visit this place in my dreams, and it will teach me.