Tuesday, October 11, 2011

harvest



"All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin."

This sacred partnership
between me
and
You
now come to fruition.

Nature's glorious palette,
colors so vivid,
textures so varied.

If only we will
but
see.

Season of such brilliance.

Every bowl, 
every basket and bucket
filled to
overflowing.

"...that there is not room enough to receive it."-
Promises surely fulfilled.

Every fruit
bearing seed
for another season.

This never ending cycle.
Love's
manifestation.

Your part:

a bounteous
never failing
generosity
so freely
given.

Gifts
of sunlight,
of rain,
of warm rich earth.

A portion of land
set aside,
not only for the filling of bellies
or larders,

but seeing more and more,
this holy piece of ground
a blessing.

A place to seek
and a place
to find
peace,
solace
for a hungry soul.

This is grace.

The woman:

She does her part.

She plans.
She plants.
She waits.
She tends.

Not afraid of the toil.
The soil.
Beads of sweat
pouring down her face,
that salty sting
blinding her eyes.
Nor the dirt 
under her fingernails.

Oh, no.
She's not afraid.



The garden is her teacher:

We reap what we sow.

Work brings strength.
On the inside,
on the outside.

Sometimes things don't flourish,
even after all your best efforts.
It is what it is.

"Because I have been given much,
I too, must give."-
a way is
provided.

And now
another year,
another season
nature's rhythmic
circle
turned once
again.

And
through it all,
the woman found
satisfaction,
fulfillment,
solitude.

And her joy
is
full.

3 comments:

  1. The wonder of a garden - its magic pulls me in every year - not such a good year for me but still enough to delight - beautiful poem and photos!

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  2. amazing. i cannot believe this. your garden is way bigger and fruitful than mine. did you write this poem?

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