There’s a house beside a wheat field, and at this time of year the farmers and their combine harvesters begin to reappear.
The wheat field’s edged with Poppies, red beacons shining bright like guardians defending their Kingdom day and night.
The time has come to bring in the crop, as every year dictates. The machines arrive to do their job, the guardian’s fate awaits.
The wheat is cut, the field bare, this season’s so demanding. And there beside the empty field is this…the last man standing.