Ruth laid down upon Boaz' naked feet
Offering herself to his redeeming hold
Boaz, thoughtful man, spoke without deceit
To embrace her honor and pursue her bold
Myself I find on the threshing floor
Debt'd to the man whose grain I partake.
At his bared feet I lay - aware the door
I was not bid to enter - his choice to make.
Perfumed, my skin well oiled, my head bare
My heart, my honor is tethered to the threshing
Floor, downcast. He continues in his repose.
Trembling and afraid I've misread his care,
His choice must not be swayed by my wishing,
To his pen I concede my verse to compose.
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