Harvesting the Seed


imageedit_18_8929325040

He had never been an intended farmer

And, perhaps, Mr. Frost knew he never would be

Unintentionally up in the notches…working the land with hands calloused by tragedy

Cursed tractors, sullen cows, an unconditional hell’s paradise

Baskets of discoveries…In one’s own unmade garden

 

Trained to farm the land…Once gone…

I had no intention of going back.

Searching the pavement for creativity

poking about the neon

digging in dollar signs and dimes for deliberate self-discovery

The writings on the wall were slipping away into graffiti

So, maybe Mr. Frost had been an intended farmer, after all

His seeds of thought burning a hole in my pocket

His travels into struggle…

Left open for me green fields of self-discovery

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s