The geese are heading north
A long cruel winter passed and now
A time for rebirth
Is upon us
Yet
A fallow mind is waiting
Hanging back
No thoughtful schemes
No sober propagations
Cloud this wistful dormancy,
This blissful paradox; a
Vague, translucent soul
Is tucked away

The geese are heading north
The time has come
For planting
Yet
The dormant field
Cannot control
What grows within
This envaulted ground
So nor can this disparaged
Intellect select it’s crop
Though fertile, rich, it
Cannot choose which path to follow

And so as the geese head north
And farmers ready fields
For planting
Yet
A fallow mind is
Hanging back
Unable to accept
The first step forward
Sitting out another season
Waiting
Fallow