Of Fields and Foolishness

One act of foolishness can yield

A life of consequence

Darling, the snow that sweeps the field

And swathes the garden fence

Will soon fall prey to the exchange

Of gold where gray clouds rearrange

The hills that waft above earth’s plains

And the attire of season-strains

The ribbons that unraveled where

Fair summer spilled its bloom

Are dangling in the frosted hair

Of every stricken plume

…and yet beneath, the still seed lies

Asleep until time’s softer sighs

Of zephyr wakes its pulse to spill

The fruit thereof on dale and hill

The seed of foolishness seems small

And insignificant

There is no spring, summer and fall

In gardens where we plant

One of two seeds, foolish or wise

And we do well to realize

The breadth of harvest it can yield

 Of field on field on field…on field

© Janet Martin