Harvest

I walked the fields I once had sown
In youth with fire and in storms alone
The furrows deep with thought and trial
Each seed a choice
Each mile a mile
Now trees I planted shade the land
Their roots held firm by calloused hand
The orchard hums with lessons kept
Some bore sweet fruit
Some while I wept
Retirement is no silent grave
But where the farmer rests the spade
He tastes the pear he once had pruned
And watches dusk with soul attuned
Not done but changed to a quieter pace
To walk the past with measured grace
The rows still call but now I know
The harvest is also part of growth
— 11/05/25

Commentary: I am beginning to see retirement not as an end but a harvest of my work so far. The image is Nine of Pentacles where I enjoy the creature comforts of my harvest while tending to my orchard as well.