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Providing for Naomi

  • Jessica Jost-Costanzo
  • Nov 30, 2019
  • 1 min read

Updated: Dec 7, 2019


I stand on the threshing floor, In the busy harvest season. Seed runs through my fingers like water, Yellow air burns my eyes, and dust Gathers at my feet.

I earned an ephah of barley in a day— It is mine, and I take it home to her. It did not come easy; She praises me for my work, and I smile. I am proud of my gleaning.

I search for the meaning of these small pieces, Noting the arch of a worker’s back just before Striking dry barley, Noting the blisters bloody and tender In the palm of their hands,

They will callous; I know that now; That is the work Of the harvest season.

Once, things were given to me, But now I provide for Naomi, And there are joys in that— The quiet behind the sheaves stacked high, And the dark where I long for well-earned sleep.

Tomorrow, I return to the threshing floor; I learn the value of grain.

Published on the Ancient Paths Facebook page on November 30, 2019

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