Archive-name: Poetry/harvest.txt
Archive-author: Ariel Witch
Archive-title: Harvest
      

 We have walked
 through the wheatfields
 of our lives.
 Like wheels
 on the wagon of time
 we have moved
 through the golden minuets
 until,
 like sheaves of wheat,
 they have ripened with age
 and now are dust.
 Had we known
 that our lifetime
 would so soon be gone,
 we might have been
 quicker to live.

 We have run
 through the wheatfields
 of our time.

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