"Know the Fruit" a poem by Aspen Hickman

Arun Clarke, Unsplash

Know The Fruit

And when I look

out, upon the horizon,

the fields of glory

laid out before me,

the crop is 

rotting in the very place

it grew.

This land will never 

know the fruit

of its labor,

only its decay 

for old does not become

new

without a shift in the wind

and the weather here

has always been

predictable.

-Aspen Hickman