Born to clean air and open fields
on a land that wrote its own laws,
respect was learned early
in the killing frost
and in the thaw.
Be careful what you pray for…
you might get it.
Praises to this slow-born Spring;
it takes its time, no thought of revenge
against Winter. Rivers rise up in overflow,
Ponds are unable to contain their joy
at winter’s end.
Every path a labyrinth of mud
and sticks, and if you look too close,
Words can never hurt you.
After Spring, Summer will come.
To everything there is a season.
No shoes, bee stings
and gardening until hands
and skin were blistered.
Laboring under a blazing sun,
a fifteen minute lunch break.
and crusty bread.
A few good years remember
Mostly more baloney,
fried crisp and laced with blackstrap,
fare fit for a king.
Heaven is blessed with perfect rest
but the blessing of earth is toil.
Did you think this was a complaint?
Where else could one awaken
to butterfly ballet in a field of clover
or savor the taste of fresh churned butter
slathered on home baked bread?
And so we learn
in this slow-Spring’s pale light
to live by faith, not by sight.
Italicized quotes are accumulated wisdoms from various proverbs and advisory injunctions.