The Farmer Takes Five

Five minutes to write.
So many ideas.
So much swirling, whirling, growing.
A crossing. A river rushing.
A muse sitting on the windowsill
with her ankles crossed.
This is what happens when you hang in there –
the way the farmer hangs in there
after planting rows and rows and rows
of seeds.
She watches over, she tends and weeds.
Mostly, she waits. Hangs in there.
Watches the rain.
Hopes for rain.
Hopes for sun.
Hopes the conditions will yield a good crop.
And then the bounty comes
and she shares it with the world.
Children come to play
near her fields,
bushels and barrels burst with color.
And these are tomatoes as God intended them.
And this is faith in action,
hanging in there,
hoping, waiting, working.
Patience.
Patience.
Patience.
And celebration for everything that grows.

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