Pastoral

I wonder dream the lives

Within this farmhouse

Does a woman rise and take her coffee

Onto a porch overlooking her fields

As I dream in the dark

Miles and hours away?

Does she fast from the headlines

Of a world in disarray

Remembering years that seemed somehow gentler?

Does the find herself

At end of day

Watching the fireflies heralding the dusk

And the fall of the night

With her energy spent and her body ready

For a dreamless sleep

Only to find her mind awake

Sorting the tasks of the day to come?

As her seasons flow by the harvest time

And her labors are measured in tangibles

The world sails on

And the politicians think their important thoughts

As the land rules every day

Does she wonder about the lives hidden

Within other houses?

Or does she live in the concrete: a solid reality she has shaped with her bare hands and a strong back?

What do we share? Would we know each other?

Is there a dream we share to create a better world?

So I seek my sleep: dragged by fatigue

Living hours behind that pastoral image

Left wondering

Where we might find

Our common ground. ~ Caroline A. Slee

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