Harvest Time

Blowing and sifting the wheat from the chaff,
forged in Truth's furnace, a sickle sways,
the weed burns, the seed remains.

Fields are awaiting,  the labourers rise
from sunset to First  Moon,
the grain of ingathering,  
harvest time ends soon.

Spirit's wind sweeping throughout the land,
stirring the sleeping,  "join-in before noon",
fields are awaken, sickle and blade sway,
harvest time ends today.