A Harvest

A Poem

With life comes opportunity,
left like a gift at the doorstep
of every individual,
until time or circumstance,
like a thief,
snatches it away.
Those who take it are
tuned to the tempo of
time to harvest its rewards
like the fruits of the farm fields.
In their sweetness
they delight the heart
with completeness,
for even the ones that
appear poisonous,
in their greenness
they often bring nourishing
joy and laughter.
The rules broken,
the chances taken,
the fears forsaken
enrich the delicious wonder
of being alive.
Thus it remains a
painful shame that
as the days go by,
the cauliflower and the tomato
submit to the encroaching
cold and mold.
Even though most of the field’s
fulfilling abundance
might have been enjoyed,
some will stay left out
to rot.
But from these decaying
fruits will arise
new chances,
new wonders
and new excitements
with the returning
harvest season.
Though the life-giving sun
sometimes scorches the
summer soil,
the pumpkin-painted moon
at night hails the
bountied growth.

[To see my reflection on this poem, click here.]