To The Fields: the final observation

I will close my field observations with a poem, because that doesn't take as long as writing an essay, and we have to drive back from Richmond to South Carolina today.  Sorry, Sissey, you still have to do the paper. 

Final Field Observation. #4: To the Fields, a recollection of taking my then three year old nephew out to watch Uncle Henry as he plowed the spring garden.


To The Fields

Uncled Henry sat proudly on
the old, green John Deere.
The spiraled disks trailing behind.
We had brought Michael here

to watch him plow. Perhaps
to ride along and lend a hand.
Uncle Henry wouldn't mind.
He lowered the disks into the land

and turned the soil upon itself
into the dark, blue-black rows,
taking Michael out to find
the place the tallest corn would grow.