|Wheat Field with Rising Sun by Van Gogh|
Standing on the sagging porch
Leaning dangerously against the aging support
Drinking in the morning quiet
The first cup of coffee.
The wheat just turning gold
Looks so full of promise
Days before harvest
Still so much that could go wrong.
Too much of the once needed rain
Hail knocking off the promising heads of grain
Wheat futures crashing
Or simply a broken columbine.
So much depends on the fields of wheat
The new porch for his wife
Mortgage payments for the bank
Seeds of winter wheat to plant.
So much labor has gone before
So much prayer and hope
For a bountiful harvest
And now all he can do is fret the whims of weather.
But today the sun is full
The sky empty of clouds
The forecast on the radio
Said the line of storms were going north.
The porch post creaks
Threatening to break at last
Straightening up he takes the last sip of coffee
And pours the dregs as offering on the Morning glories.