Today I may dream of stubbled fields shriveled
foretelling of future prospects grim.
If tomorrow’s dreams are green, is it a given
I’ll have silos filled to the brim?
Whether fields are bearing or fallow
each day’s work brings forth its yield,
success evolving securely tomorrow
by the greater effort today I wield.
In my dream the slopes were shallow,
windswept and covered with a kind of cloth,
surface nutrients protected there,
shielded against my erring sloth.
I may have gain of whatever kind
depending on the effort made.
My fields will in their greening shine
or else lie dormant in the shade.
Carole Mertz, a professional musician, turned to writing ten years ago. She has recent poems at Indiana Voice Journal, Rockford Review, Kind of a Hurricane Press, Pyrokinection, The Write Place at the Write Time, and in forthcoming anthologies. Her poems won several Wilda Morris Poetry Challenges in 2015. Carole resides with her husband in Parma, OH.
Enjoyed this poem very much. I found it uplifting and insightful. Truly a delight filled with all our hopes. I will read it over and over again. Carol Mertz is a sure master of words. I always enjoy her work.
Thank you, Jenny. I’m so glad you liked the poem.
What a lot of memorable lines! I’m looking forward to more inspirational greening and yield, Carole.
Thank you, Carol, for your encouragement for more greening and yield. It was my grandfather’s work ethic that entered this poem. I appreciate your comment.
Lyrical and evocative. The poem prompts the reader to consider the interior as well as the exterior landscape.
Nice of you to comment, Deborah. I appreciated your reading of the exterior and interior landscape. Thank you.
Congratulations Carole. A truly lovely poem. Frances
Frances, thank you for reading and commenting on the poem. I liked the image Mr Mantyk attached to the poem.
Ah yes, the ever-present struggle of effort cheek by jowl with sloth. This is an outstanding poem!
Thank you, Nancy, for reading and sending a comment. Effort vs. “sloth” is an ongoing struggle for one such as I who prefer green fields to stubble. (smile).
I like the thought that “I may have gain of whatever kind depending on the effort made” This made me think that sometimes we make the effort but nature has something to say about the harvest too. It does not just depend on our effort. So to the shriveled harvest, we gain perseverance for our effort. Each type of harvest brings it’s own kind of gain. A great poem on vocation. We reap; we harvest.
Glorious work Carol
Are you available for commissioning a poem?