Fallow 33

The sun is rising
Feeling like another day
Despite sleepless night

Despite longest drought
At least on one front it ends
With food on the way

I see my back porch
From this seat perhaps fated?
In ways preordained?

Still fields feel fallow
There is a mundanity
Heavy in the air

Not sure about work
Awake does not mean focused
As such things demand

Reset and/or regroup
Tomorrow and the weekend
Still hold to their claim

Claim of days coming
See that I am not alarmed
My love sings to me

God thank you for strength
And familiar compromise
This run is finished 

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