A Tuber’s Kismet

I wonder if its fate it pondered,
While in soily nutrients entrenched
And by summer sun and warm rains drenched,
This carrot once buried in the earth.

Could it envision the moment of squander,
When plucked in fullness from the soil
The purpose for its growing toil
As source of food to never know true worth?

But rather in snow in a season yonder
To be thrust with force to make a nose
And for a spell called freezing to hold that pose
For the sake of some silly human mirth?

Sometimes when I let my own thoughts wander
I glimpse a fate much like that carrot’s
Where all I’ve worked for, all my merits
By changeling Trickster are transformed to dearth
...and I am buried in the earth.