I thought I’d try some poetry today. One haiku for each season, starting with summer and ending with spring.
In green open fields
The future grows and takes root
Weigh maintenance with play
Brisk morning fog hangs
The dirt’s taking its last breath
Make the storehouse full
Incessant grey days
The wait. The trust. Peaceful snow.
Cold brings a sabbath
Wet glimpses of green.
What was sleeping is waking
Each season has its own task at hand, it’s own set of worries, and its own mode for peace. Each season has wisdom to give about the others. The need of winter tells us what we ought to do in spring. All the work of planting in spring requires our watchful, protective eye in summer for it to have been worth it. As the yield ripens we prepare for the hard work of harvest. Fall requires sacrifice from dawn till dusk, but we’ve been here before. We know winter is coming, so we can gladly give everything we have left to get ready for the scarcity and rest of winter.
Worries and regrets become less and less as we fall into the rhythm of seasons. Peace is rhythm. It never stops moving.
Sometimes I get peace and rest mixed up. There is peace in rest, and there is peace in work. There is peace in preparing knowing we’ll have peace when there’s nothing else to be done. May our pain in this season not defeat us, but be our wise teacher so we are prepared for the next. In finding rhythm, may we find peace.