THE PECAN GATHERERS

----by Dan J. McDonald



They come
the pecan gatherers
Year after year
they come
To muddied ground under aged trees
Collecting pieces of mosaiced lives
Portraits of time in eternity

They come
the young
Racing from dew-glistened shell to dew-glistened shell
Each find a moment of discovery

They come
the old
Digging deep beneath decaying leaves
Knowing the worth of buried treasure

They come
the whole and the infirm
The one-armed main in silent ballet
Windmills daringly to claim his prize
The whole, not satisfied with wholeness
With added limbs mechanically harvest
The fruit of little labor

They come
In sun, in rain
In cold, in heat
they come

In October, in November they come
Straggling into December they come

Cleansing soul and calendar
In never-ending cycle
they come
The pecan gatherers