Day's End

Bent low beneath the ache of day-long toil,
Your faithful hoe becomes a steadfast crutch,
Your woe-creased brow smeared brown with fresh turned soil,
As sepia stains the sky with twilight touch.
In the distance the welcome campfires burn,
Sending heavenward streams of unworldly white,
Oh! how for those placid skies you yearn,
To lay down at last your doubt and take flight.
But still the jealous Earth holds you fast,
Her primal embrace wills you to descend,
Your shoulders slump as the sunset shadows are cast,
Through the rolling hills let darkness wend.
Sure as the seasons, tomorrow the dawn will break
But tonight in Heaven's tranquil hush you'll partake.