Harvest
Today it is the world’s abundance
I remember. The squash swollen and yellow and sweet
among the dried vines. The mound
of firewood growing daily in the shed.
Twists of sage and rosemary hanging over the stove.
It is easy to forget the middle of winter,
the early dark and late light,
short days and long nights soon to come,
easy to feel that the earth provides
all we need.
The old joy: no famine this year,
the pantry stuffed with the fruits of the summer’s work,
family gathered close in the growing dark.
(kz 1997) (previously appeared in Fireweed)
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