By Steve Rubinstein
You find yourself
standing at field’s edge
looking back over summer
as though it were a season
not a lifetime carried out
in one riotous leap of faith.
From hope to flowering fruit
from seed back to soil;
two false leaves emerge
upward, outward, inward
downward and home again.
You find yourself standing
lose yourself walking
rows between rows in rain
running down raised beds
pooling for a day then gone.
So, this is how you grow
raising yourself up
aching knees in muddy loess
toward intangible sky
without night without end.
