Harvest (poem)


Light over the clouds
shines bright into the heart,
eyes warm with heat
after the night’s frost.

The fields, they glow wheat
for harvest in October,
their golden bodies dance
to the sun’s open arms—
apples blush on the ground,
on cheeks cold
with the first signs of snow.

And I wonder
what makes the rising sun
stay bright in the heart through
the winter’s long touch.

— The Finicky Cynic

Check me out on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/thefinickycynic



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s