At Summer's End

I heard the field speak
in words of what it was.  
I heard the yesterdays  
begging to be remembered,  
to be revived and regrow.  
  
I heard the seeds say,  
we are all still alive; we are  
tomorrow's bounty in dormancy,  
we are to be the next big thing.  
   
These things I heard as  
the wind pushed over the    
last remaining stalks of  
yesterday's crop.  
   
The world needs us, so  
we must push on, ahead,  
above our earthly den; towards  
the uncertain air we float,  
unaware of Summer's end.  
   
We only know of the new life  
we will bring one day after  
many seasons have passed.
We only wait patiently  
enjoying this freedom  
hoping to make it last.  
   
      .....