First harvests brings realization of what is available.
In bountiful years
Plenty for food,
Plenty for seeds.
Force us into
Prudent, hopefully shrewd decisions.
Some MUST be held for seed.
Food will be sparse.
This is life and death.
In the midst,
Celebration goes on,
No matter what.
What's done is done.
You have your fruits and time is moving.
So we may etch into our memory each other's face,
In this day, at this time, this most difficult undertaking
With it's complications behind us
We flow back into the rhythms of life
Retreat into the dimming of the year
Digesting what there is
Holding fast to the precious seeds....
We collected our essence
Renewed our sacred bonds and oaths to each other.
Our futures, now spun together
Must play out
From the sorting of the seeds.