Harvesting Love

The rarest of seeds

this encasement of chance

not upon the hilltop

does it come

nor from carefully hoed plantings of time

From where then renders its start?

Some would say it has no beginning

no end

no vertical or horizontal boundaries

its night into day begs endless flow 

Yet we experience a genesis

of mind and heart

imposed by our cruelty to self

since we believe it rarely happens without effort

We wonder if life's irrigation of soul

Love's ever-present conscience

plans its on-and-off of well's irrigation

whether longevity best delivers by night

by day

by moon's cooler surroundings

or sun's affluent warmth

Undaunted Love understands

its wayward course

its detachment to time

its cause and effect unbridled

even as we compartmentalize our fantasies

Love easily finds solace

its airborne seedlings rejoicing

with fellow rose petals here

a sonnet's caress there 

even the kiss goodnights by habit everywhere

it understands

Love settles not on exclusive landscapes rich

for it knows ubiquitous seed

is but for the giving

for hearts willing to receive

And planting needs little

for those who heed its attendance

reward rains down on those who turn the soil

discover its meager insistence

its bounty-in-waiting

its guaranteed survival

But

Beware the demon-like weeds

clamoring to join the challenge of

Life's carousel

always gentle

as young and old

prepare its welcome

this up and down labor of Love

atop the steed of our dreams

Trust the ever faithful winds of the calliope

wrestling mountain to valley

rich furrows to clenched handfuls

to carefully massaged hope seeking respite

even in urban bunkered hollows

Where city's window-box laden eyes

forever trusting fate will

rescue burrowed hope

from ravenous fear

and allow the reaping of one's crowded labor   

Even as with wild abandonment

these unwanted growths of distrust and avarice

wallow in hate's unquenchable battle to confine

gorging the season's bequeathment

amidst love's fight to retain its freedom

there remains

As always for those engaged

Nature's calm disarming of storm

merging moon into sun

season upon season

its hourglass perpetual

making ready the hoe

offering rake in hand 

Love's harvest is always beginning

its cycle knowing no end