Fallow 351

The moon's out in full
As I take the 12th hour
To slide onto page

How swift to forget
When sickness shackles the mind
And sleep dots the day

So I did not work
Tomorrow's duty unclear
But fields are moreso

For last midnight chime
Echoes along all airwaves
And fades from each ear

Will they be picked up?
Does enough night remain for
No one else to work?

Such a strange feeling
Amidst such a foreign scene
Fallow past midnight

I count my blessings
And account for my losses
Then wonder aloud

"Were these fields fallow
Or did I trade rest for work
Made fool once again?"

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