The People of the Land
We are the people of the land, privileged to tend to the miracle of new life,
handed down father to son, mother to daughter, burying
the seeds to die beneath the dark earth in every season,
raising new seed for the next, as we have always done.

Yet, we marvel as each new season, the earth is warmed by golden sun,
kissed by the early and later rains, until the wind rocke the new life gently
in this cradle that is our world.

We grow old watching this ancient miracle, always in awe
of how life eternally springs anew from the seeds of death.

The new generation has now arisen to take their place
as the tenders and guardians of the rite of the seed and the earth.
We who went before, are planted as seed in the dark earth
to be cradled by the wind, kissed by the rain, and be lifted to the sun,
to smile down forever upon our sons and daughters, who,
taking their place to stand through the seasons,
tending the miracle of new life, are now
the people of the land.

Ric A Ohge 2003