Listening to every heart
The Bread Maker
It is not just the earth that you see
in your planned effort to feed humanity ~
you read the seasons and the skies
an invisible entity in the public's eyes.
You are solid, your strength center to earth,
been this way, yes, since your birth
you feel the sod, you till the soil
it is your life's blood for which you toil.
You worship God, every given Sunday
and give thanks deep, in your way
as some plant money in the bank
you look over the wheat, your token pay.
The summer holidays and memorials come
and you, at work, through the noonday sun,
ever at night and in the heat of July,
the fire's work is in your eye.
Winter's wheat is growing green,
now plant milo, corn and bean;
in all of your labors here on earth
you come closest to giving birth.
If clouds do come, you hold your breath
knowing there waits another test
prayers sent in silence to God on high
as blackness bubbles in the sky.
Two things now the farmer fears
as ice and fire can cause great tears ~
while wheat gleams golden in the field,
weather may strip the farmer's yield.
But you, the farmer, will again go on
from dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn,
reward is yours, the pleasure sweet,
as you feed the public with your wheat.
29 May 2000
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow