Harvest
“The harvest is great,
but the laborers are few.”
gather flowers while you can
before the night dawns
and the frost rises
out of the deep
the wind begins to whisper
down down
from the icy peak
in just a little while
it will blow inexorable
sweep the heads off the stalks of grain
carry them away
into the endless distance
if you do not pluck them
gather them into the warm barn
to be dried
and laid beneath the blanket
eternal rest
and shelter
already the green of the leaves fades
the sunlight darkens
there is little time
run!
out through the fields
down into the valleys
the icy gorges
by which the smallest flower springs
pull it up
by the roots
whole and complete
carry it
to safety
in the house
the fire is burning
drying the air
warming
giving life
there
they will be preserved
forever
she will wear them in her hair
and place them in her crystal vases
about the hearth
thirsty, drinking up water
and light
the grain will be ground
hardened in the fiery furnace
and set in his presence
there to abide
forever
are you frightened?
do not let it stay you
do you not see the shadow at the window
the winged thing
whose breath is poison?
already they begin to wilt
the stalks lowering
the life draining
are you sorrowful?
then labor all the faster
do you not smell
the burning in the air?
they are coming
to kindle the fields
and the forests
salt the earth
reach down, down, down into its depths
pull out the little sprouted seeds
reserves of life
only beginning
bear them to the temple
do not grow weary
you have only a little while
to labor
for the night is coming
in which no man can work
then you will rejoice
Amen
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