Delaying the Harvest
© by Christine Fischer
The future, still green, dares to be foretold,
consists of what past times continue to hold.
some sweet grapes are turned into tasty wine
while shaded ones, sour, might acetify.
the rivers wash red stains away, in time.
residuals crystallize in salt stock and iron.
too frightened to rest both my feet on this ground,
always I skip the moment´s trembling sound,
forwarding slowly with careful steps,
all of them crossing the same tiny gap.