The Harvest.

The sparkle on the river,
from the lights on distant shore,
the cold and bitter glitter,
the beckoning of more,
is beautiful to look at,
’tis a pleasing sight to see,
like a woman dressed for dinner,
in all of her finery,
but all that shines is not silver,
and all that glitters is not gold,
and if you want the treasure,
and if the truth be told,
the view that one must ponder,
contemplate and get to know,
from the outside looking in,
the soul’s own steady glow,
a light that’s undiminished,
a fire that does not wane,
the treasure of the spirit,
a harvest of the plain,
the common and the simple,
the joy of days born new,
the treasure is the wonder,
of the beauty within you.

 I was planning to write a blog post, review a book or two, or say something about some movies but I’ve been quite busy and expect that to continue, happily, for a while. As we venture into August, the Summer drawing to a close, my favorite season of Autumn approaching, I’m feeling somewhat contemplative and this poem, that I wrote sometime in 2009 at what was the beginning of a great transition in my life, seemed to me a fitting placeholder for the time being while I take care of some things, and catch my breath. Soon the trees will be shedding their leaves and the air will begin to stay cooler farther into the day…the watermelons will give way to the pumpkins… Pleasant dreams until.


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