scola

There are only so many strokes to perfection

so many notes rewritten

thousands of pounds of ink spoiled

rotten, sour, archaic, garbage

feverishly yelping "save me"

but lo there is some divinity

like grape leaves bear wine

thus the harvest unfolds.

I say, Good Moural's Gold

the trick lies within the tendering.

Therefore a good farmer which is dedicated to the 

plowing of the field might expect to yield

which he put forth. Where to

the wobbly kneed locusts scavenge

is neither his fear nor his objective.

Simply the tendering of the soil is enough.

Yet, what's said for the locusts, for like us they to tend to eat.

One can only cultivate so much

and only wish for more next harvest.

Why delay to put forth such effort

and expect to yield perfection?

Some things, just as seasons must pass

and we must learn to return to the soil.

Photo by Sadie.  Words by Rashaad.