Saturday, April 4, 2009

Cropped

The mowing of this hairy hill is like a backward harvest:
The combine, with its buzzing mouth, comes rolling
over the crown, leaving a lane of stubble, and
the thick, standing stalks fall aside. Then
the billowy piles are gathered up
and discarded, while
the barren field is
combed and
kept.

1 comment:

  1. Wow, I never thought that cutting your hair would make me feel like a farmer. Just call me "Farmer Lisa" :) I like the "combed and kept" the "k" sound repeating is nice. Better than your original idea. Nicely tapered too, just like your hair cut. Great poem! It's right up there with your sheep being sheered one of long ago.

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