The word goes out to harvesters
From fields head-high with grain.
With scythe in hand they lay the stalks
In neatly ordered rows.
The birds are flushed out from the fields
As workers cut and reap.
The children play upon the green
As boats come to the shore.
The town embraces everyone
From beggar man to prince.
The city thrives upon those fields
Where crops are gathered in.
Some workers stop and find a place
To take their midday meal.
Their strength renewed, they carry on
So all may be sustained.
For no endeavor in the world
Will ever be fulfilled
Without the skills of laborers
Who bring our daily bread.
Image: The Harvesters (1565) at the New York Metropolitan Museum
Artist: Pieter Bruegel
Medium: Oil on wood
[To see a very nice 5 minute video presentation from THE MET about this painting, go to https://youtu.be/T-XAR-p790c]