written after The Harvesters by Pieter Bruegel the Elder, 1565
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.
–Ecclesiastes 3, 1-2
Bless those who attune to ripening,
those who hoist baskets, who wield
hoes, pitchforks. Bless those who
cut and stack and carry. Bless those
who pick and gather and sort. Meanwhile,
all around them, others play and lounge,
engage in callous sport. But bless those
who notice the work to be done
and do it. Bless those who feel
the sweet press of days and allow
the hours to avail them. Bless those
who sense the fullness of time,
who say yes to the moment
and rise to meet it.