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Morning field
Folder:
book 13 As the sun peaks up into the sky
the blue pickup truck goes down the dusty road
to the field that barren laid
and the red tractor waiting there
father and son in blue jeans clad
walked from the truck across the land
to the job are waiting for them there
to begin a new as such in every year
so big the wheels with cleats deep
red painted steel and rubber so black
the scent of grease and of used oil
and dust that tickled and teased the nose
black painted seat with flecks of rust
up so high to be rode
so many petals and levers there
hard black rubber wheel oh so wide
father climbs up and takes his seat
reaches down and lifts up his son
setting him down upon his knee
reaches down and turns the key
a lever is moved a throttle to set
the choke pulled out to just right there
a round pedal then depressed
and with a grind the engine starts
moving levers the plow is raised
with hiss of hydraulics and squeaks of steel
depress the clutch and shift into gear
increase the throttle and ease off the clutch
and with a lurch the tractor moves
heading out into the field
the father steers the boy watches
as they move to where to begin
stopping there lowering the plow
the father says he’ll do the first
then coming back he’ll let his son
plow furrows in the field
back and forth in the rising sun
the scent of soil freshly turned
birds that land where they had been
seeking the worms now exposed
and at noon they take a break
for tuna sandwiches and paper wrapped
a big thermos of still cold milk
and for apples fresh and red
working on in light of sun
through the day both long and hot
till the sun touches again the land
at end of day before work is done
leaving the tractor in the field
walking back into their truck
the first of many days are now done
as they get in and drive away
another day for father and son
as they work in light of sun
sharing together the joy of the land
and the working of it which is their life’s
