Ode 34

I stand at the brink of cultivated ground

Fertile soil where seeds were deposited with care and comported with compassion

Watered daily with the doting dew of affirmations

Doled out religiously and sacrificially on the altar of your bounty

I paid homage and tithe on the shrine of your still waters waiting for them to run with reckless abandon

Flood like the Nile just to recede and leave a soup of sediment that could become clay in my hands

I sit in the mud joyously thankful for it

Until I see the shadow

Something has blossomed a cloud in the expanse of your clear skies

Darkening the atmosphere and interrupting the joy that used to effortlessly be synthesized

Dancing to the soundtrack of percussion and incessantly catchy melody

And it all begins to crumble…

One ingredient missing

That’s all it takes for the Harvest to never manifest

I am here in the present

Reliving the past

And again I will plant for the future

Hoping that the fertile season will come

This time bearing succulent fruit

If only you weren’t allergic.