Great Expectations



The seeds of Great Expectations rooted deep,

but she tasted their fruits not in the fair soil of trinkets

fashioned from sturdy stems,

cabinetry of beauty and elegance

displaying the wares of Kings,

nor in the expression of the printed page,

pouring forth speech from pulpy loins.

Less still the warmth of a billion fires,

songs of a billion kettles

as her fuel gave Man comfort from the endless darkness.

It came, not in the power and might

of the straight-rimmed arrow’s shaft

or the machinations of the torture room,

but in the beautiful irony of Life –

the abandonment of her burdens,

 bouquet of ultimate surrender.

Here, where she came to terms with her brokenness,

her truest beauty harvested

Great Expectations.


A Harrowing Harvest

thresherman's sledge


These tines, thresher’s sledge

gouging flesh, tearing

chaff from stalk in one

smooth strike. Plundering

periphery has

its benefits; as

empty hulls fall to

the earth, seeds awake

to freshly ploughed soil.


The Gleaning

canary seed

When your shoulders, bending low beneath their heavy load,

Bow defeated with the weight of what your day’s bestowed,

Lift your eyes above the waves, set down your raging fears ;

Pregnant with a harvest-hope, your gleaning time appears.


Canary seed soon to be gleaned…

Wait For Me

autumn slough


Wait for me at water’s edge,

Where Autumn meets the sky,

Where trees in wigs stretch sapless twigs

And watch the geese fly by.


Wait for me where harvest hides,

Where Wind paints reveries,

Where evenings slip with frosty grip

By picturesque degrees.


Wait for me where Time stands still,

Where seasons wax and wane,

Where Dew withdraws from icy paws

‘Til only earth remains.


Bringing in the Sheaves

blackbird harvest


Sing a song of harvest,

A sheaf of golden rye;

Four and twenty blackbirds

Taking to the sky.

Sing a song of plenty,

Of food that’s gathered in;

Heralding the season

That stores so much within.