Wherefore you flit before my mind
And perch upon my furrowed brow?
Whence came this love once confined,
Revealed hence as hill's subtle brow,
Now fields to be worked as furrow by plow?
Untamed land stretching beneath my feet
Begging clearing of thorn and bough.
My vision: produce of corn and wheat.
To nourish friends and those we meet,
even as we ourselves feast and flourish
when God calls us to come and eat,
and hope for little ones to nourish.
I look forward to the harvest
of love that grows in light and darkness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem