Here is my poem for last week’s prompt, Planting the Seed:
Waiting to Harvest
We spent our early years
in a constant balance
of harvesting the day
and planting for tomorrow.
In time, the harvest came.
All those seeds we planted,
nurtured, watered, and worried,
bore great fields to sustain us.
It’s hard to uproot now,
no reward for leaving this tilled path.
But it’s been a weary, flat run
for the last few pulls.
I look back and smile at our current crop,
reaping a bit for now,
hoping to silo the rest,
hoping there’s enough when we need it.
It’s hard to farm the present,
always planting the future,
harvesting the past,
and wondering if it’s all enough.