This poem came to me through the Parabola website. When elders or those suffering from chronic illness tell me what they miss or what they find themselves most yearning for, generally their richest memories are of what we might call simple things.
As each of us tries to understand where our freedom truly is on this 4th of July weekend, perhaps contentment might be a good place to start the good and fruitful furrow.
The Farmer's Winter Dream(after Robert Hass)
You would think it might be
bountiful harvest that in the night he
dreams of, bumper crops, great wealth
arising from fertile soil.
But a simple man dreams of simple toil,
the sweat labor to maintain or restore health
to the land; its loss is his only sorrow;
he dreams modestly, of plowing a straight furrow.
Red Hawk
bountiful harvest that in the night he
dreams of, bumper crops, great wealth
arising from fertile soil.
But a simple man dreams of simple toil,
the sweat labor to maintain or restore health
to the land; its loss is his only sorrow;
he dreams modestly, of plowing a straight furrow.
Red Hawk
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