Hark! Arise! Chicken time is here!
The late angled sun sounds the alarm.
Morning ablutions begin, hours later than yesterday.
Corn mash is poured for the pecking—
fowl devotees of the lay-pellet god.
The bees begin morning rounds—
Zen-monk workers of the harvest.
Sunflowers, peas, corn, tomatoes dead on the stalk,
yanked in preparation
for the Winter goddess.
Let the wet cold nights begin
their evolution into compost!
Garlic cloves stand in the wings,
waiting for the line,
the cue to be pressed into frosted soil
and begin their spicy journey
to fruition.
The newspaper’s been tossed on wet grass.
Lumbering diesel behemoths circle,
collecting waste and refuse.
The pizza man’s called for an early lunch.
A plane lands on schedule,
a Suburban comes to a stop in the driveway.
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1 comment:
I have come back to this 2-3 times. I love the feel of it, the autumnal harvest, the animals, the sensory images. There's a calm confidence at work here. No self-doubt, no fear. I like it well.
To nit-pick:
--Let the wet cold nights begin
their evolution into compost! -- grammatically this sentence means that the nights are turning into compost. Fixing it might f-up the line (you'd have to flip it to get the pronoun referent right), but it tripped me every read.
I also stumbled at lumbering diesel behemoths, feeling it a little redundant, but when I took out one owrd or another it didn't feel descriptive enough. Not sure what to do with that, but think on it; maybe there was another word you had in mind at that line and chose another instead.
Something to play with...
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