Comment on this article

by Michael Escoubas

I'm back there now
riding with my dad
on his forest green
John Deere 4010.
Black prairie soil yields
beneath the plow's hard steel.
I hug my dad's warm body
in the spring-chilled air
as he drives a straight row.
White-faced Herefords graze
the pasture. Hedgerows hide
a clutch of newborn bunnies.
Purple lilacs throw perfume
into the air. It's plowing time,
the sky is high, the sun is gold
and life is good because
I'm riding with my dad as
the 4010 shouts and coughs
and spits and sputters and turns
the soft, moist earth.


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]