The Sower Poem by Kevin Rice

He sees the rising sun
And lifts the seed
Setting the sling in place
The breeze weighs perfectly
And so
He lifts the gate and
Steps into the field
Keeping a steady, easy pace
And casts the grainy treasure on the soil

His manner has the look
Of routine carelessness
His fixed expression
Conceals a calm contentment

The sower watches where the seed alights
And though his simple mind may not know how
The dark unseen magicians of the earth
Will claim his scattered hoard
And with their sweet enchantments
Suffuse the seeds with life,
Still, with his labour done,
At sunset and at ease
He dreams of harvest
And golden sheaves that billow in the breeze
Awaiting deliverance
With his gentle scythe