Yesterday’s Harvest

Yesterday’s Harvest

days ago it seemed
the Fall Harvest—
the last ‘pickings’…
tempered vines
strewn in a wheel barrel.

The compost would be laid
as a blanket
upon earth’s brown skin.

Winter arrived—
the chill swept across
the landscape.
Flakes of powder—
each one different—
an artistic design unnoticed.

Yet, it held in time
on the frozen
pile of Autumn’s leaves
that the winds were unable
to blow away.

All that is about to be—
the awakening of Spring.

We have not seen the
great harvest of Winter
down deep, inside
the body of the Universe.

So much Life
created, re-created
in the death, the remains
of that last
wheel barrel full of Autumn.

The cycle repeats
each of us is in this
circular dance.

Do we recognize
what dies in us?

Have we let go
of useless, unsettled
‘leaves’ hanging around
waiting for us to allow
them their freedom—release?

Are we able to smell the fresh
scent of Spring
and allow it to fill us—
carry us off our feet
until we settle into
the warmth of summer
soaking in the drops of
sweat while sitting on
a carpet of sand
by the sea?

The wheel barrel
will come again—
fresh compost
gathering the last harvest.

THIS is the essence
of communion
daily received.

In the eucharist of life,
the paten
a simple wheel barrel.


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