A poem by Ann Robinson What the Earth Denies Us! I wake up and there is no rain, days, weeks; the fields pour heat. My wells, dry. Mornings I blame God for lack of ground water, not the big boys at Monsanto who give us Roundup beans, herbicides, synthetic hearts and cells, A woman who owns her own farm and doesn’t pay bills. My farmhands drive broken down combines, watch the earth sour in the hot wind. A snake crawled on my boot and died. My corn a cracked lair. Boll-weevils in cotton. This is my farm, my irrigation ditches. A woman understands why the birds no longer gather, the seasons shift beyond recognition. I look out my window on the evening, The ghosts of cattle egrets float across the moon, the stars fold on each other and lose memory. I am thin now. These crops were our masonry. And still I pray. © Ann Robinson
Posted on: Tue, 01 Oct 2013 04:13:11 +0000
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