5.6.2014

blue chemical haze

floats across the fields

where disk harrows cut

rows to start the new

planting

long into the night they

work because ground

and food will not wait

for a factory clock

when the rains come

after coming too much

the seeds must be sown.

we only think that we

are removed from the

orb, as if our electrical

thumbprints will step

us aside from what flows

from beneath.

it is an illusion. children

of  dust and rain and

promise, we reside

within boundaries not

of our making.

earth to earth. it is we

who must discover.

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