Life's Work

Life's Work

The grass is cut, laid out upon the stubble

catching sun and browning slowly, and a breeze

will bring an earthy scent of blades and stems

and flowering buds—these things the rain has brought us, more than

just enough this year. Abundance.

What feeds us will elude the well-planned schedule:

while I'm planting, it's too wet, or as I

watch the rows, the rain won't come enough, and all this

wind seems bent on stealing crop

and top-soil, dashing heads and stalks and dreams…

But when I stop awhile and clear my head of bumper

expectations that could "make

this year the best!" I find the million supple shoots that

broke the surface just last night and know the

promise that is sure: Life.