I have ploughed one field

And seen the soil turn

To lie against its fellow

Under the greedy gull shout

Behind my blade.

Worm gorged, at dusk

They seek a distant tide line

And the furrowed field clamour

Slips silently into the night


I have broken the plough lines

Left to crumble in the sun

Where worms once toiled

My disk and dragging chain

Harrowed the land.

Tilth readied, at dusk

The stubborn clods are gone

And the hanging dust cloud haze

Settles quietly till sowing day


◄ On Hearing a Loved One's Fate ...              E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle [1]

The Garden ►


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Fri 13th Apr 2018 19:33

Touch of Seamus Heaney here Chris. A pleasure to read, as it takes it through a timely ritual of toil and tilling.

Lovely stuff. Ray

<Deleted User> (18980)

Fri 13th Apr 2018 16:22

Always best to plough your own furrow Chris.

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