I saw the sower sowing
Horse team and plow
Kicking up tan dust
That furls and curls
Behind them
A daylong task
Of sweat and furrow
While dark clouds
Gather in the west
The pace quickens
Rigging jingles and rubs
On dark horse hair
The farmers’ wrists ache
As plow handles twist and turn
When the work is done
Farmer detaches plow
Drags himself with the team
Back to the barn
And the rains come
And the seeds rest in their damp soil
To begin their germination
I saw all this close and afar
Rhythms and textures of the land.
Tom Stock
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