Friday, March 25, 2005

A poem for this Good Friday:

The Rice Harvest

It's months since the young rice
stirred to the morning breeze.
Now they are gathering the rice
in the fields along the coast.
And my heart turns to you.

Time and the sun have stored their beauty
in these grasses
in their communion with the soil
for a thousand minds and hearts to learn in love
of the magical marriage of the crops.
And my heart longs for a harvest
as simple and true as theirs.
I envy the easy beginning and the simple end
lost in a larger life.
But our ways call for a touching of our spirits only.

I wish I were rice and you the soil.

-- A.J. Seymour, p. 156 in the Collected Poems.

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