Cultivation
globs of snow
dot the dirt
along a stretch
of frozen rows
mirrored in the horizon
hazy in the silence
of the morning ray
steamed in breath
the crimson tractor
sits ever ready
to plow a new path
over the old
and fat are the hens
that strut in their hutch
high off
corn and cotton
they lay their eggs
their work is done
as the cattle chew
and the mule
stands waiting
for something to happen
TL