* * *
This Moment
A Poem Of Careless Resolve
Who dares look back
At the path, they have made
On the way
To that distant harbor?
We fancy ourselves as kings
Or captains,
But are farmers unaware
Thoughtlessly planting
Trodden seeds
Mired in the seam of our boot
Since last spring.
We carried them unknowing
Until
Our grain is sown
Blindly
In a footstep,
To wait through the winter
And sprout in the spring.
But
Not until summer will it prove
To be a flower
Or a weed;
Too late to harvest
Or hoe,
And so our passing
Has left its trace.
