The road is uneven.
\nThe girth of time
\nbetween evening and daylight.
\nLife outbound or coming home,
\nthese black buggies of prayer,
\nof dedication,
\nof soil and sweat and family.
\nLife tipped by its tasks,
\nbut straight and strong.
\nWho holds the reins?
\nThe intense eyes following the road.
\nThe black and white of faith.<\/p>\n
Where is the farm
\nthat comes out of the earth ahead?
\nWhat is planted in the fields?
\nLove of the seasons.
\nThe fresh taste of water.
\nRain falling in the dusk.
\nA cocoon with the metamorphosis
\nof a heart inside it,
\nstruggling with the labor of existence,
\nand a goal in the spirit
\nthat looks at the fields.<\/p>\n
The buggy carries them,
\nsingly or together,
\nman, woman, child, or family.
\nJudge not the frail beauty
\nof the buggy,
\nbut the intent moving inside it,
\nand listen to its laughter,
\nand taste its tears.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The road is uneven. The girth of time between evening and daylight. Life outbound or coming home, these black buggies of prayer, of dedication, of…<\/p>\n