Breathing in the scent
of freshly tilled black soil
the harvest freshly done
the bounty gathered in
the season now, begins again

It’s evening in
the life of a farmer
the year of tilling, planting, tending, harvest done
it could be a time of rest, but not yet
the soil, the mother of it all
needs to be stroked, massaged
before it is laid to rest.

It is a time of opening up’
so it can breathe more deeply
receiving the rains of fall
expanding, contracting, with freezing thawing

The Lord God took some dust, some soil,
and shaped it to a man
then breathed into his nostrils
and he became a being

And I?
I breathe in the scent
and wonder
What is man
that God is mindful of him?

Lin 11/07