Clods of dark brown earth break <br />With each determined thrust of boot and blade. <br />Revealing in the core of warmed embrace <br />Some small and welcome fruit of labour made. <br /> <br /> <br />Roots of month-long summer toil <br />Lie exposed in conquered disarray <br />And sit, hard won, on frozen winter soil. <br />I smile. We shall be fed yet again today.<br /><br />Fay Slimm<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/labour-s-reward/
