she got in her busted-up car and drove
out to where the fields were wide
empty and barren
out to where the road thinned and roughened up
she pulled the car alongside the surrounding tree line, turned it off
stumbled out drunkenly and walked
as far as she could into those fields
step by slow, careful step
when her feet gave in she collapsed to the ground without a noise
and stared up at the dark sky
after a few short moments of this
all around her the fields began to grow
wheat threaded between her fingers and toes
they grew tall rapidly
and when they stilled she shakily
reached into the pocket of her coat
and pulled out a handgun
she pressed it gently to her temple
left it there
as she breathed in the new harvest
as she revelled in the not-yet sunrise
then she pulled the trigger
with an exhale
all the wheat around her burned to nothing
when the sun was finally hanging high overhead
the car, the wheat and the woman were gone
as if they had never existed in the first place
and who's to say
if they ever did
I wonder how many miracles
have never been reported
