So, now, that you have sewn your new harvest seeds,
and in its earnest, you have established due respect,
understanding that a job is not a good job 'til done
regardless of the blood-sweat that soaked your brow.
A many fires are sparked within our lives everyday,
brush fires, that separately... are all containable;
yet, it's the mindset of allowing small fires to grow,
in absence of diligence and a measure of common sense
that creates its escalation.... from smoke to inferno
And, so, you planted your seeds in earnest, however,
you knew the November rains were scant this season, ;
yet nothing stirred your sense to respond with resolve,
and the situation you have now from this sore neglect
has left your harvest crisped...in winded ash, beneath-
the tangled feet of a tattered, plaid-shirt scarecrow.
FjR-MMXV
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A true and masterpiece of an autumn poem.