This summer day I am the mounted reaper
Kick in the PTO on my screaming John Deere
green pentacle of blades
-- that's Power-Take-Off, 550 rpm
Too much for words
I'm taking off the top blade, seed head and germ
a whole season of grass
Am I an agent of order or entropy?
Insects, bugs, pinpoints in eternity
are stirred up in decimation
Godlike, I steer my chattering machine
in broad arching epochs of small inconsidered beings
To the birds I am benificent
Blue streaked swallows feast with joy,
pause at the bottom of their arcs
and offer me their rusty throats that from
my rumbling throne I may auger
their grateful celebration
They do swoop and I do too
dragging the sun across streaked fields
dragging a cloud of invective chaos or a banquet
Man-like I am burnt of sun grimy of skin
dusty of lung. Sweaty and taking break
God-like, I rest.
It is a matter or perspective
My tractor creaks, cools and sighs
I am an agent of edges and order hourly paid
An agent chewing drinking burning and cutting
Chaos and change -- life's fine pain
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