There need not be any grim in the reaping.
The close, the sweep, the gathering up, scattered
lays to the Earth the compost of what new
might become from the rich loam of what
The thing is, is in the attachment to what
at last gave fruit, and needs in the end
of harvest to be laid back to Earth
was of skin and bone.
Heart to heart connection that no Autumn’s
coming Winter could foretell the loss caught
in the stream of tears carried away on a river
to another land.
Grief floods the shores of this land a salty sea
and in the one day not long from now
my ship will see you on the shore sunning
a radiant wave
A gestured call to share our Light again
reaping the radiance of our time together
again in how love holds the heart forever
in the always-has-been