Furrows and Seed

a poem to wonder about place

This poem was originally written for submission to a publication whose name and contact information I then lost. In the process of a long and convoluted online search, I at last located the small poetry press in question this past week, only to find that I was just four days late to meet the final deadline for submission. Ah well, here is the poem, which was composed in response to the theme “furrow”.

The wild desert creates its own furrows as it carries on its own many lives.

Furrows and Seed

Only the rain makes furrows here,
Summer by summer, year on year,
Moves the soil and plants the seed.
How very little earth has need
Of me here, yet it greets me still
Kindly, wonders what place I fill
Within its ancient endless run
Year by year around the sun.
And as it wonders, so do I,
Ephemeral as butterfly,
But even they have tasks to bring
Pollen brushed on leg and wing.
I think the earth’s still watching me–
Waits in its earnest way to see
Whether I’m friend or enemy–
Or maybe not: the rabbits know
Now, already; in their slow
Patient wisdom, stay and crop
Errant grasses while I stop,
Speak to them; they’re not afraid.
May I rest here, sun and shade,
Rain and drought? Perhaps I’ll find
What earth wants with me, behind
All the bustle of my kind.
Quiet, quiet, in the sun;
Watch the rain till it is done
Planting all the seeds that grow.
Spread their leaflets in sun’s glow,
Shade the earth that more might sprout
Summer in and summer out.
Maybe this is all I need:
Leaf and branch within a seed.

---