Spring Plowing

Deeply furrowed,
the wide field
lies in muddy chaos.

Smell the sweet clay
as it fills this cloudy spring day.

Earth’s dark womb
lies bare.
Gleaming plow,
efficient engine
sunder black skin of soil
to plant the seed
deep
beneath the future.

See how it will be.

On a warm, summer’s morn
static breast
will rise with deeper breath,

and muddy death
give way
to ascendant, golden day

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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