What color?
What flavor?
What year?
You draw near even in the face of fear.
What courage.
What gusto.
What gear.
You give more than I can ignore.
What grace.
What wisdom.
What light.
Harvest has come and I'm left undone in fields weary from worry and strife.
The storehouse is closed, bails loaded - brows bowed.
The work of the day is worn like old clothes.
Bring rest in the day and refreshment along the way.
Dig a soul well deep in ebb or flow.
Create something sweet from each challenge we meet.
Store it in the heart cellar for a cold rainy day -
like today.
Copyright T.L. Eastman June 2012
Image by donnobru on deviant art - visit donnobru's site by clicking here.
No comments:
Post a Comment