Harvest Time
Yellow, golds, and greens,
The bean fields turn,
Ready,
Steady themselves for the harvest,
Cold frosted air settles over the landscape,
Sharp stubble of cornstalk,
Stark portents,
A cavalcade of events to come,
Trees yet green,
Show little hints of red within,
Like a man in his thirties,
Sporting a bit of gray here and there,
Sun bright; Day Cold,
An oxymoron?
Not now,
Not at harvest time,
Time to gather,
Time to thresh,
Time to rejoice in abundance,
As this earth provides,
We are thankful,
We are blessed,
For gifts given beyond measure,
In beauty and bounty,
And, bound forever in the explicable joy,
Of life!
Peter Lowell Paulson
September 24, 2012
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