Voyage of the Tractor
The farmer tills his field,
waves breaking in his wake,
a linear but rubbled trail bending
to the horizon, a deep tide
churning the roots to topsoil.
This morning below zero,
dew marks each wave
with frost at its peak,
so the land resembles a mad
brown sea with whitecaps.
2 comments:
darn. lost the comment.
here it is again ... i love the description here, know just what you mean, appreciate the oceanization of the dirt.
But i don't think this poem is done ... i think the third stanza should go back to the farmer ...
darn. lost the comment.
here it is again ... i love the description here, know just what you mean, appreciate the oceanization of the dirt.
But i don't think this poem is done ... i think the third stanza should go back to the farmer ...
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