Love's Harvest

The prayers for rain had ended and the prayers for sun commenced,

Throughout the farming year, the pleas for either kept us tense.

The harvest was upon us and the grain was ripened gold,

The time was short to gather in before the snow and cold.

Most of the farmers had commenced. Their silos being filled.

But Ross’ sat neglected. He’d spent the summer ill.

His neighbours eyed his quiet fields and shook their heads. “When done,

I’ll go and help poor Ross,” they said, “One cannot waste the sun!”

That Sunday, those attending church received a big surprise,

When the Bishop told them: On the morrow, snow would fly.

“I know the Sabbath is for God,” he said, and then he grinned.

“But today I’ll harvest Ross’ crops. Now who can I count in?”

The meetings were abandoned. The run for trucks became a race,

And one, by one, combines and grain trucks came to Ross’ place.

While the men and boys were driving, girls and women, too,

Make thick, delicious sandwiches and ladled bowls of stew.

Now dew can halt a harvest, one needs dry to get the grain,

And as the light began to fade, they eyed the sky again.

But in the west an arch appeared, a chinook had filled the sky,

A promise they could carry on, that they’d stay warm and dry.

Throughout the night, they harvested, not one got any sleep,

And by the morning, they had won, there was nothing left to reap.

Tired, but glad, they filed home and into slumber swept,

The promised snow appeared and dropped two inches while they slept.

Only Ross of all those men had gotten in his grain,

But nary one of those who helped did fret, grip or complain,

Indeed, that day, through service, what they gained could not be bought,

For those who gave so willingly, a real Love’s Harvest had been got.

Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With poetry, we three besought,

To try to make the week begin,

With gentle thoughts--perhaps a grin?

So Jenny and Delores, we,

Now post our poems for you to see.

And when you’ve read what we have brought,

Did we help? Or did we not . . .

And next week in our neighbourhood,

We tackle 'History'. It will be good!