While Ink Still Drips

While ink still drips from tip of quill,
While Poet still has wit and will,
To ply his craft and pages fold
Wade through the crap to find the gold
Seek the horizon beyond the next hill

When rain drops fall, the well will fill
Collect on eaves and window sill
Into barrel large droplets rolled
While ink still drips

While there are still soils left to till
And the farmer still has the skill
To reap before the earth grows cold
Not premature, nor on vine too old
The hunt doesn’t end with the kill
While ink still drips

T J Therien

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