Wintered Memory of Spring

In Summer's Idyll
And relaxed evening
The fruit comes
To bring the feeding

And corn and wheat
And most everything
Efflorescences in their bringing

And what fruit
What grape is grasped
When paycheck or grain
Is at last
In one's pocket or silo has?

What ending?
What beginning?
With labor done, and new plan dawning...
What life is dawning with your love in hand?

It is the night that divides the day
And the day that destroys the night
For life is buried in shit
And the seeds of sorrow are not
But What One Buried to Reap

Our lives, or our hope
Our love, or our jokes
Maybe our yesterday, but certainly...
Our tomorrow