Ever
(Eternity is in love with the creations of time. Wm Blake)
For one solid second
limestones
look
like
lambs
in the zero dark
spot
of my flashlight,
frozen like the ground.
This shepherd is
Born again
in water and on grass.
Sometimes
he reaches
that place,
that moment,
where there are
only
two big Rituals left:
birth & death.
Poised between
I get to choose
which I see,
limestone
or
lamb,
eternity
or
the creations of time.
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Sometimes, I think I sense the flow of a calendar year through the rhythm of your posts as a farmer, Terry, knowing that your poems and posts about the lambing season is an indicator of Spring on the horizon, and knowing, too, that your blogging silence and quiet this time of year is often an indication that you’re deep into the dichotomy of the farm that your poem recognizes, and explores. We’ve known each other long enough to sense some of those rhythms. I wanted to recognize that for a second.
Kevin
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I, too, note your late summer’s pause, your school year calendar, and extreme weather moments.
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I stand recognized. Now back to existing programming.