Harvest

Behind the bales of hay

rabbits flit here and there

back and forth in search of

shelter better than the empty

prairie all creatures must embrace

the big sky a canopy of azure

and gold rising light and bright

above the earth smudges of cloud

glide lazily to the top of the dome

I have worked these fields a lifetime

digging and planting and digging again

irrigating with my sweat fertilizing

with my hope for a harvest

beyond the ordinary a harvest

that can feed nations with only

the name of my state as my mark

Jet streams ruffle the grain embedded

in soil like flimsy pillars of stone

buckling in the wind only to bounce back

at a lull when my thoughts fall supine

before me flattened shadows of plans

for this bountiful fortress of crops

for a warm embrace of thanks

from the hungry masses waiting

for my excess to let he who has been

given much give much this is

my ethos my creed carved

into the hay even if baled only

for the cows they carry the weight

of the world on their fattened shoulders

a fleeting sensation in passing winds

I bend under their load from the blue blue sky

bearing it to the fence line for their

mouthfuls of silent thanks