Lammas

As long as the world exists, the seasons endure
Time for planting, and time for harvest are sure
Unless the great heat brings forth a barren waste
Judgement upon a people who were disgraced
Who saw the world as children, there to take
And the ancient harmonies did now forsake
 
That the land in the seventh year should rest
So that the grower would once more be blessed
And leave the gleanings for the poor to take
The ancient laws of justice and the rake
Grain at the margins left for those in need
And not all taken for profit, and for greed.
 
I have seen people plough fields of an evil seed
Planting wickedness, destroying every single weed
And the earthworm, insects, and pollinating bee
Are wiped out from  the field, by slow degree
Harvest of wickedness, crops that do not seed
Terminator genes cause the poor to bleed
 
The god of the harvest weeps in funeral rite
Ripening of the grain, with fields so white
Offerings of first grain offered on altar
For we know how easy the seasons falter
How blessed are those with bread to eat
And only in sharing is joy made complete
 
"Give us today our daily bread", the cry
So often stifled, while millions still die
Goodness is the harvest from the seeds
When we reach out, address those needs
Until hunger destroyed, and famines cease
Be the peacemakers, and  plant for peace.