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January 12, 2010
Most every day
a peice of Earth with soft patches here and there
fresh mornings of harvest, long days of sun sweat and dirt
Every day, you stand by the field squinting a glance
and plow through them as they come, most every day
you wink at the crows, look hard at the clouds as they gather
you wish for rain and stay soaked knee deep in mud as it pours
Most every day, almost all , your peice of land
with soft patches here an there, your earth
your soil, your dirt, your seed, your harvest
somewhere between promises and heart brakes
you plow through most every day, almost all
and a quiet satisfaction of bruised hands
and callased fingers, your life
on a patch of Earth to live
and to die
Posted by Idinraha at January 12, 2010 11:14 PM