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Posts Tagged ‘Brown yes reddish brown’

I passed a field the other day,

That in summers past

Had always been in hay.

And there I saw it laid open wide,

With some gashes that

A plow put in its side.

 

Brown, yes, reddish brown,

Was the ground,

That the implement of man

Had turned down.

Row after row of little hills,

With valleys and daises,

Thrown in for frills.

 

Now – the farmer hadn’t planned

To leave those flowers.

As witnesses of nature, brittle towers,

But nature’s not as weak

As may suppose.

And the strongest things

She has she always grows.  –eab, 5/69

“Dictated” to Martha as I drove our black ‘68 VW along a back road above Townsend, Tennessee.

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