Job Done

JOB DONE In autumn, our love for this farm began, years ago. We pulled it out of the ground, and kept steady And watched the kids and corn and apples grow - Watched them ripen and become ready. Such love overflowed our hearts with passion. Now comfortable, mellow, fruitful, it yields Cosy warmth as we watch the profusion Of a job well done from satisfying fields. Everywhere there is ripeness to the core: Warm pies with swelled, plump apples from each bough Now loaded with golden, yellow blessings, turning more And more into a falling sunset of leaves covering the plough. Gathering birds listen in the fruit-filled orchards steeped In the whispers of the winnowing wind’s crisp air - passed Quietly over the corn stubble full-reaped - That the time to fly is approaching at last. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .