Flower Farm

bees and butterflies
work the fields
beauty is the harvest

Love’s Labor

of tending and caring
await their service

Protected by the Labors of Care

piles of wood
wheel barrels of apples
surrounded by the harvest’s securities

Bee At Work

in the duty
of labor lies
the virtue of purpose

Time’s Labor

clouds and sun
snow’s toe hold of cold
all cultivating spring

Retired Workers


Rust may diminish their substance
but their labor has shaped
the land on which they rest.


The fields form a patchwork quilt,
a growing green cover that reaches from the river bank to the mountains.
Tied together with labor and nurture for the purpose of sustenance.