Archive
05/15/11 - (2)
Wild Mustard
For three palpably rain-saturated May days, Driving a daydream, between Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana, All I've been seeing, breathing, conceiving Has been vibrant orange-flowering wild mustard, That beguiling siren-weed, which, within weeks, days, Will be plowed under, to make way for life-feeding crops,
My eyes gathering in the endless acres of blurry orange hues, Inhaling, luxuriantly, lustily, The humidity-thick visual scent of spring's incipience. Though I know that, on my next passage through this land, I'll be inundated by an ocean of seven-foot cornstalks And soybean-green seas of lush fecundity,
I wish, wistfully, I could hold at bay the metamorphosis On the verge of sweeping these weeds into earthen oblivion, Keep the grains from choking out my prized plants, I sole proprietor of this rural domain Three states wide, deep, seething, and orange, Who'd let daydreaming's wild mustard overgrow his soul.
05/15/11 - (2)
|
|||
|
|||
