Our lives have been tilled by many hands-
parents, teachers, circumstance
accidental careless fate carved rows
at some points straight
at others, not so much
the furrows casting off -
and somehow, with the care and the neglect,
the rain and drought, the sun, and all of it
we find that we have made a life,
an unexpected one, perhaps,
with roughness where we might have wished
a smoother way
and yet, we have grown strong somehow -
the scars, the roughened skin,
regrets grown in to be the framework for our world
standing on the crest of the century
stepping down the leeward side
we start again
and work the field ourselves
by Ruth Hunter
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