Back Home on the Farm
The stalwart oaks and maples wink a red blush
as spring tickles frost on the drive.
Morning’s frozen ruts, cut by yesterday’s labors,
jostle giggling children bound for breakfast –
sins now revealed and guilt instilled;
Sunday’s always thoughtful visit to redemption
before turning the winter rye.
Celebrating an end and beginning,
lost and new born gifts,
all wrapped here,
hearth warmed and rafter swung
among tears and labor equally spent
on memories piled upon memories
Copyright © craig cornish | Year Posted 2018