KYLE SLEDGE

I
Awake alone from sleep somewhat subdued
Start to abhor this age of solitude
Infinite dreams could be the remedy
Instead, it’s out of bed––nature’s calling

I
Brew a pot of coffee to stimulate
Brainstorms to rain ideas and change my state
From arid lands to fertile, fecund soil
Which nurtures seeds planted singly with toil

I
Tend the crops with care, watch closely for sprouts
For these budding shoots could help supplant doubts
Of never branching out to find true love
Of faith yielding nothing from God above

I
Work until twilight, when day meets the dark
Take stock of the landscape changed since the start
Thoughts in mind have grown wheat and tare entwined
Only one will be spared come harvest time

I
Remain in shade as breeze blows around me
My sole friends wind and a magnolia tree
Self-cultivation’s a lonesome business
Though its labor’s fruits are hard to dismiss