The wind rustles through the dead stalks,
standing lonely, close together
in the field desolated by harvest.
Few survive in the late autumn light
mottled green and brown
alive but not healthy.
Time then to turn them under
into the dark brown earth,
crushing the stalks to dust.
Providing food for the soil
while it sits, baked by frost
until spring arrives
and new crops can be planted.
A healthier strain this time,
built on the successes and the failures
of seasons past.
Rooted in new understanding,
they will grow strong and tall,
bearing beautiful, hearty fruit.
© 2008 Jill Joy