The Fowls of the Air
Behold, there went out a sower to sow,
a father who had a young son to grow.
And it came to pass, as he sowed,
some seed he wished he hadn't of throwed.
Kernals of anger and pits of rage,
Slipped through fingers and into the clay.
The sower lamented, 'you reap what you sow,
no matter how small, the weeds quickly grow'.
Remorseful, the man sought pardon from the boy,
And found firmly planted not bitterness but joy.
Astonished, this sower looked back in his path,
the fowls of the air devoured the seeds of wrath.