Time lays dry in the fields br as a long Summer gasps br in choking clouds br of windswept polen. br The tall grasses br bow and wave goodbye br to this years seeds br as they float, then land br on the empty, arid spaces br of a new land. br br Like unborn children br they are nourished br in natures womb. br The cord; their roots, br that feed and suck br on the sustinance; br bequithed by br dead ancectors, who br died on the crosses br of last years harvest.