Staggered Lanes

Staggered Lanes



Upon a wind-swept winter field
where frost now covers summer yield,
the solstice glints on sun-iced crust
where once such range was full, robust
and filled with crop and pride revealed.

Harsh bleakness blusters wintry realm
and frosted cold holds tight to helm
while hands of winter mark her stead
as if the day bled branded dead
disguised as such to overwhelm.

Yet here beneath this frozen soil
wrapped waiting for the spring in coil
lie shoots and sprouts of tender green
expecting birth where they'll be seen
as harvest reaped from labor's toil.

When farmer's plow pushed on to till
the season's frost released its chill
from warming earth, each mounded rise
where rules held rules; no compromise
for staggered lanes, seeded with skill.

Showing me paths as it saw fit,
cycles of life, where I submit,
whose trace of seasons on my brow
have grayed the locks that I wear now
and leave me cause to ponder it.