I HAVE FARMED
YOUR MACHINE
Yes, yes, that I have. The crinkle-cut potatoes
now have taken their rightful places, and everything
is running smoothly. Both the hen AND the wren are
living well on these lands. Perched on a fencepost,
to squawk - one remains while the other just flies
away. I don't take sides, and merely stand their with
my shovel in hand. A hoe at my side. No, no joke, I
mean it that way. Funny language though, how things
sometimes sound. In the distance, I can see how the
land undulates as it rolls along. I think of the earliest
of settlers here, what they must have seen and felt. A
rolling wilderness of trees and grasses. Tall. What
they ever saw in here I do not know at all.
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