wander the furrowed field of words
the farmer is the mind going along
through memories or recollections
all of them invented in one way or the other
then bound to the exertion of the task
just like bull bound to the yoke and metal blade
dreaming thoughts and earth both ripped and flipped
showing the other side then following
of a filling and then gathering then burning
the ground will be gone over again
trodden torn open then planted anew
real and imagined seasons overhead underneath
quickening phases of life and death
more strain more images and imagining
lines like furrows cut on the page
and then a rest when the hands rest
>
sigh be still and take it in observe all around
like any tiller will do from time to time
see how it never changes from a point of view
but freedom is at here plowed or not
and the earth lays so serene uncut
>
if only we could be more like ponds
steams rivers lakes or the sky
so thinking goes
—
CM Evans
