poetry friday

The Harvest
by Alice C. Henderson

1889 Wheat Field with Reaper and Sun by van GoghThe silver rain, the shining sun,
The fields where scarlet poppies run,
And all the ripples of the wheat
Are in the bread that I do eat.

So when I sit for every meal
And say a grace, I always feel
That I am eating rain and sun,
And fields where scarlet poppies run.