Fall Harvest
Fall Harvest Dirty pink bundle left on the street faint feeble heart, uneven crying, gasping for breath, calling for help. Who will come? Who will succor the abandoned? The hopeless? Mother’s love absent, father’s protection forgotten familial support blown away in the October wind. Time of harvest, but damaged fruit, like refuse, tossed aside without thought. A child is not a piece of bad produce. Charged with doing no harm, oath abdicated...coldly sent to die...alone-quickly forgotten. No record of life... of death. She never existed. But God works in mysterious ways sending an angel to hold her softly, gently. For the only time in her short life she was Loved. For Jenine Basaraba, Nanjing China; October 2013