THE FIELD AND THE MOMENT
The shadows of three men sowing watermelons
Grew very long behind them as they crept down the field.
A pair of parrots flying homeward
Shouted noisily to them to look at the sky.
But they continued stooping and dibbling the seed in the earth.
In this way they grew a number more melons,
And missed what was written in that particular sunset,
Which had never been written before,
And, of course, will never be written again.
Philip Britts, November 1, 1941
Mary wrote:
> FINGERPRINTS OF GOD
>
> "Whenever I meet a man," he said,
> "I look him low, I look him high,
> To see if a certain gleam is born,
> An inner light, deep in the eye,
> The light of eyes that see in growing corn
> Not only grain, not only golden bread,
> But sweet and plain, the fingerprints of God.
> What for a man is it, who cares
> Only for harvest and the threshing feast,
> Sees the reward before the growth of Love,
> Who looks impatient at the slim green spears
> That tremble under grey October skies,
> And scorns all but the ripened head.
> God is not seen only at harvest time,
> But He is here, in winter-sleeping sod,
> And half His glory stands about our feet
> In the low lines of green young growing wheat."
>
> Philip Britts, 1940
>
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