Lawrence Hall
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Ten Knots along a
Cord
A
trewe swinkere and a good was he,
Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee
-Chaucer’s Prologue
See the plowman walking home from the fields
He plods along with the pace of centuries
There is no haste, for time hardly exists
Only the seasons, rolling like cosmic tides
And in his hand, ten knots along a cord
To count each Ave as it passes his lips
And through his heart and hopes and gratitude
His soul secure along the links of being
See the plowman dreaming home from the fields
His feet upon the earth, his head among the stars
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