Relationships: To the land and to memories

Today I want to start the subject of relationships. This first poem I wrote for my uncle who farmed all his life. This poem isn't about just him, but about how I see all farmers and their relationship to the land. So unique, so silent.. special and intense.

He Would Touch His Oceans

He would touch his oceans,
Recall the seeding of it’s life.
The graceful dignity of it’s death.
See the long, perfect rows of
Deep tasseled green carry the wind
In whispering waves,
Play with the rain,
Stretch slowly to the daylight
As if heaven bound.
It would smooth his brow for a moment
Then fade like memories of childhood.
Shadow-dreams to long for
When the rain stays at home
And the wind rapes the soil like an angry stranger.
His face shows the storms and droughts of life.
Lost friends,
Bitter sweat,
Self doubt.
Still he works the springtime pastures until harvest.
He is one with the earth,
His soul is rich with the spirit of life.
Planter of seas, can you smell the sweet summer
Rain couched in the twilight?
Hear the rustle of your life’s joy
Waiting for you like a windswept, silent lover?
Soft as moonlight it sings
For the grower of oceans.
Waits for daybreak’s first kiss,
And dreams of the care borne
In your touch.
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This next one is about my uncle specifically. It's about the occasional summer weekends spent on his farm. A little kid who gets to follow a busy farmer doing his chores in the early morning. My memories of a hero and he never knew it. I wrote this poem a few days after he died.


Shadow of a Hero

My uncle returns with a jacket
(made for a giant I pull it around me/adjust the sleeves).
Try to match his strides and end up running just a bit.
Watch him hoist mountains of corn onto his shoulder.

Sunlight tickles the morning’s toes.

Move from chore to chore.
His dog gives my face a licking.
Says I didn’t wash supper off from last night.
(first words he has spoken to me all morning, his whole face smiles).
We stop to have a cup of well water.

It will never taste as sweet as that day when I
Walked inside the shadow of a hero to milk the cows.
Grasshoppers make way for the farmer and his helper.
We check our shoes and go inside for a breakfast banquet.

I must leave the next day.
Stare out the closed car window,
Gravel tapping at the tires.
I wave goodbye
And grow old.
Replace dreams with practicality.
Watch the (bigger than life) shadows of experience
Fade with the growing day,
Until the sun overhead makes them disappear.

What I’m trying to say
Is that if I can catch the morning just right,
I can feel his silent laughter.
Recall the sweet taste of well water,
And for a moment, understand the contentment
He possessed.

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Give me your thoughts about farmers and farming... and perhaps a memory or two.
Take care and we'll talk next week.

b