~ Sown in Seed ~
~~ † ~~
'Tis nothing to douse the downy dawn,
when thunderous slumber comes to call.
To embrace the dew upon the lawn;
fools fondly fear bright leaves of fall.
Still, ever yearning glorious things,
'til huskers bring their crops to bear,
'neath wispy cumulus blue-tipped wings,
full harvest moon beams down her stare.
Heaven opens wide her pearly gates,
fluted angels flock 'round husker's moon,
as newborn swallows soon congregate,
around mating calls of lonely loons.
“Behold the treasures He freely gives,”
Wise watchful angels boldly proclaim.
Through His “sacrifice you're free to live,
reap harvests rife with glorious grain!”
As gnarled old hands fill canning jars,
and weary arms put young lambs to rest,
where both accumulate many scars,
through bucolic years put to the test.
Remember what He's promised us —
sown seeds are sacred works of God;
yet spoiled if our plowing's flawed,
with faith in harvests, we are trussed,
~~ † ~~
For my Pastor, Richey Pride. God bless you!
