Mitigation

As we plow the rows of life, The twisted furrows of our strife- We must look back a time or two To see if they are following true. To know the turning of the share And shed a cleansing, woe-filled tear, For, ever as we try to prove The straightest line, our steps will swerve. Yet if we contemplate too long The cause and where we have gone wrong, We'll miss the guide lines up ahead And once again off course be led. We cannot watch the ruts behind And hope to straighten out the line. But when each night our work is through And we must rest as all men do, We must gaze out across the field, Survey the fruit our labors yield. The knowledge of a job complete Will see a field of golden wheat Where now the furrows march apace, The flaws now hidden in the haze Of distance from the cabin door.