we worked the fields
wielding sickles
and scattered thoughts of
one day crossing the
border into worlds
before unseen
we step and sway and cut
and sing in praise as
women and children
transform the stalks into
bundles for the wind
and sun to remedy
we left the fields
nearly naked and dotted
with purposeful randomness
our backs still strong
our minds set on preparing
this evening’s meal
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
