On Labor



The rolling hills
stretch from horizon
to horizon still rippled
with last autumn’s tilling
with last autumn’s drilling
Winter wheat’s sleeping
under the quilted snow
now gone green again
in spring sunlight

So too our seeds
scattered yesterday
endure time’s chilling
rise straight or crooked
according to our planting
grow curses or blessings
in seasons of awaiting
bread for the table
straw for a stable

“He drives the long traverses of the healed
and healing slant. He sweats and gives thanks.” ~ Wendell Berry


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to On Labor

  1. deeply reflective – welcome home


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s