*In memory of Paula, Donna, and Art…The second harvest…*

I went for a walk
One grey day,
And passed a house
Full of memories,
There were shadows
In the windows,
Peering out at me,
Beneath the shaded blinds…

In the garden,
Working rich red earth,
Was an old woman,
Bent, grey and worn…
Her face lined,
With remembered pain,
As she struggled to grow beauty,
In the tough land…

But she was solid oak,
A true woman of the earth,
She was so strong,
That she never understood,
The twigs that trembled,
Under her ever widening arch…

True to her strength and nature,
She protected and shaded her fruits,
Providing nourishment from deep
Within the earth…

The first harvest brought much drama,
Grew too fast and wild,
Dropped too soon from her branches,
Spread themselves among the earth,
Wandering lost and wounded,
Until they returned to whence they came…

Her second harvest went unnoticed,
Her mind reeled with the knowledge
Of what she had birthed…
They fell unwelcome to the earth,
In her heart,
The second harvest could never equal the first,
But they were use to themselves,
No medals,
No ribbons,
No well kept hand-prints,
No pictures hanging on the wall…

Do not grieve for them,
Children survive,
At least,
Most of them do…