Harvest had come and was done
and views plowed unto empty mud
the green and yellow appease was gone
and finch song changed to whistling lad
The lad mellow the then field of grain
and whistle the tiredness he feel
he whip his huge carabao again
when it pause awhile for a kneel
soft mud has been repose to terrace
and the mud that then the softest
became the fortress and a snug case
and soon will content hungry quest
and again,the rice planting begin
faithful fingers began to sow
on mud,each with gripped courage,with grin
their back bend,but soon,grain will vow
the time forgot itself and went fast
once,empty ooze that strew with test
which sowed by fingers of faith and trust
Now!Alluring sickle for Harvest!
YOU ARE READING
Flowers On Shallow Water
Poetry'Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing....'
