Cherish moments such as,
when life gathers around toiling feet.
With splinters embedded beneath the nail.
While hay lay stacked…
bale upon bale.
Even as evening’s storms remain a plight.
Alas, no chivalry in what the season’s create.
No precision to articulated measure in the artisan’s fight or flight.
A labor to our demise…
to believe other,
would be unwise.
Still a righteous harvest is ours by design.
To gather one true passion
a fodder to the mind.