Flightless mincemeat waiting for the ****,
 
by farmers plow,
 
below the till,
 
a stir about,
 
an upward ******,
 
up through the earth new life is pushed,
 
through valleys low and skies abound,
 
their colors shake the hardened ground,
 
a life among the stars aglow,
 
Their fate, it lies beneathe the snow.