Monday, September 21, 2009

Waking On the Farm

Painting by Nancy G. Warner


I can remember the early mornings--
how the stubble,
A little proud with frost,
snapped as we walked.

How the John Deere tractor hood
pulled heat away from our hands
when we filled it us with gas.

And the way the sun brought light
right out of the ground.
It turned on a whole hill of stubble
as easily as a single stone.

Breathing seemed frail and daring
in the morning.
To pull air in
was like reading a whole novel.

The angleworms, turned up by the plow,
looked uneasy, like shy people trying
to avoid praise.

For a while we had goats.
They were like turkeys
Only more reckless.
One butted a red Chevrolet.

When we washed up at noon,
we were more ordinary.
But the water kept something in it
of the early morning.

Robert Bly

Posted over on Columbia State Ed

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