Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul…
Though proudly born, most never wear a crown,
nor sit near crystal chandeliers, servants
tending needs. For us, no fancy carriage
rides to formal teas…Ours is common ground,
no fanfare heard! But hear our boot-soles sing
of climbing high and reaching alpine meadows
for claiming provenance with wildflower gems
and fine-etched veins on aspen leaves and stone…
In coveralls, we sow and plant the earth.
On hands and knees, we nurture common ground,
Next day we break down clods and water well…
At last we reap the grains we grew for bread
we bake to give away to those in need.
If hungry, take a loaf? And leave some seed.