Saturday, August 6, 2016



Lilac blooms have faded,
Soft smell has given way.
Fall is ever approaching,
Now smell of corn as tassels.
Green will soon give way to brown,
Combines in fields harvesting,
Completion of springtime and harvest.
Years marked in seasons now.

Seasons change,
Infant to child,
Child to adult,
Husband to lover,
Lover to father,
Back to lover and beloved.

Cycles and seasons of healthy family.
Long view of choices made.
To undo and repair much energy now.
Twenty years ago minor correction yielded great harvest today.

Season that compound fruit of labor,
Compounding in relationship.
Breaking, uncreating, destroying, unattaching from generations before.
Making things right.
Redemption proclaims race isn't to the swift.
A soft heart, tender with God, restores, heals, and renews.
Today is the day to begin, don't wait.
Never too late, if breath in lungs can begin.

Seasons of planting small steps today,
Sets into motion fruit harvested years later.
As long as have breath there is hope,
For renewal, restoration, salvation.
Today is the day to work it out.
Prepare the field, plant the seed, tend the crop.
Long view yields much fruit and legacy.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

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