Race Against Time

Ripened fields of golden grain
Bend
As the waves of moving air
Flow
Quietly o'er the heavy heads
Waiting
For the giant machinery to
Harvest
The bounteous increase of man's
Labor.
While struggling furiously against
Time,
As looming masses of vapor
Bloom
In the western sky which
Threaten
To delay or possibly to
Destroy
The fruit of many months
Invested,
The farmer sends clouds of
Dust
To smudge the darkening
Sky
In a race against the violence
Nature
Has sent to thwart his
Effort.
Tiny kernels of the
Harvest
Heap in growing piles of
Gold
Where churning wheels
Transport
Them to a future turned to
Bread;
Sustenance for the growing
Masses.