Harbinger   Grey storm clouds gather, Contrasting the honey-sun day. Mild breeze moves the trees, And a whisper gathers in the sea of corn. I stand watching and drowning, In the ocean of life. A distant hum forms a backdrop, To this serene scene. But destiny points a dismal way, For this weary wave of piece. Two impending forces, Will paint their ideas on this canvas. A prayer for life, Yet life is so short. As the red reaper approaches, Destroying all in its path. The fragile feeling shatters, Now the heavens open. Cool crystals of water shower, Enriching the soon bare field. Does the heaven resurrect? Or is it a condemning of all we know? Should we celebrate… When we reap what we sow?       Back