Arms of the divine

Arms of the Divine

I am waist high bathed in shades of palomino and buttermilk
My hands caress the wheat tender as a lover
The smell of sunshine
The taste of wildflowers and butterflies

My beloved
I see her standing in the distance
Her hair, dark as a raven
My own like burnt embers

Many years have passed between us
Separated by war, plague and famine
I walk towards her
Breast plate and sword covered in dust and blood
At last I am home and wrapped in the arms of the divine