By Alvin Skiles

Shared by David Skiles

Sawyer, Kansas farmer and poet

Harvest Time

The golden sheaves… are in the field…

The harvest time is calling…

 The big machines are running fast…

The  grain trucks… they are hauling…

The precious treasure…of golden grain…

To market or… to storage bin…

The days are long… and old man sun…

Beams the heat down… with with a grin…

Tis summer… the work is much…

The children… think it neat…

To climb… into the truck…

And play around …amidst the wheat…

The meals are brought… out to the field…

There we sit… around and eat…

Sandwiches, casseroles, salads, cookies, too…

And upon windy days…have a bite… of chaff or wheat…

Harvest time when we reap the fruit of a years, long labor…

Days when things go well… or things go wrong…

Reel slats busted… a sprocket gave way…

A tree to side…and the boys found… there were augers to pay…

We look it all over…and think it all through…

We remember that God… has a harvest to…

The good book says God planted some wheat

He looks over the field… and He sees some cheat…

He’ll  send His  angels… to gather the grain…

To store it all safely… in his wonderful bin…

But the chaff and  the straw… are of the wheat too…

Give it some thinking… and look at it true…

Which part do you think… of the wheat are you?

Alvin Skiles….                    6-26-1998