In loving memory of my Grandpa, John Robert Biegel (May 21, 1927 – December 2, 2018);
And to my Dad, Robert Charles Biegel, and my brothers, Charles Stewart and Simon Robert,
who are the inspiration as they continue the life and legacy passed down to them.
Based on a true story.
He straightened up tall as the sun beat down on the rich dark soil behind him;
He drew his rough hand ‘cross his sweaty brow and gazed o’er the field before him.
“I see it son, now ain’t it nice – that big field of ripe golden wheat?”
The curly-haired lad, he squinted and frowned, “No Dad, all’s I see’s a black sheet.”
“In time, my son… in time you will know,” said the man to the sunburnt youth,
“Them seeds we planted today’ll be golden wheatfields–sure as truth.”
Summer rains went, and summer suns came, and warm winds danced in the grasses;
The father and son watched the seed sprout and grow, and walked through the tall golden masses.
Harvest time came; the scythes were thrust in to reap the ripe harvest in time;
“Treat the land well,” said the man to his son, “and you’ll see that it yields a goldmine.”
Sorrows and joys came and went; Time and Care wrought with the years
Much change in the face of the farmer as happiness mingled with tears.
But the youth never lost the bright vision his father had set in his heart;
Respect for the land and faith in God’s plan, though simple, became his life’s art.
Then one day the farmer grew ill, and sensing his time would soon come,
Lay on his bed while his son stood beside him, clasping his hand in his own.
“Them wheatfields, Dad, you remember?” said the son with a tender smile,
“Them days in the fields–I loved ‘em, and that waving wheat stretchin’ for miles.”
“Ah, son, them were good days–full of bounty, hard work, sun and rain.
“Keep ‘em alive, in your heart and your home, for it’s your turn to do it again.”
The farmer lay back on his pillow, closed his eyes with a look oh so sweet;
“I see it son, now ain’t it nice? It’s God’s Field of ripe Golden Wheat.”
COPYRIGHT 2021 BROOKLYN K. BIEGEL