Listen Closely
The lady in red is saying something.
She claps her hands, resting them on the desk.
Her expression is no longer taunt. Her
Words don't make her pause.
She draws those words from a book
That dictates the intricacies of worth
For every living thing that has roots
And grows to be.
She wears the red sweater to ward off
The chill of northern winds.
But only she senses the frigid cold
When others complain of summer's heat.
There's a breeze that sways her now.
It compels her to act, to escape its reach.
She feels no sympathy, has no pretense for the recipient of her message.
The lady in red came to announce that
A man has come to harvest his crop,
To cut away strands of life with a sharpened scythe.
She informs the child that it would always amount to this.
In the end, he will always come to reap his return.