I walk amongst a sea of pumpkins
in muddy earth terms
laced with mediocre intentions
while each leaf traces lines of worry
drawn from my troubled lips
and my green fruit turns orange
embarrassed by vagaries in my mind
as I weather demanding storms of summer
and change my mind along with autumn.
The harvest of my soul
in orange and green
sprinkled with rains
and sun rays
glimmering in tradition
despite my influence.
And so, another harvest
to be loaded and carted away
with my heart dragging behind
until spring beckons in soft whispers
with new promise
to plant another year.
Copyright 2008 JO Janoski
Picture: For to be a Farmer by Winslow Homer