The sun beats down as the motor hums incessantly away. The smoke offering from the cigarette at my lips curls heavenward as I plant my feet firmly in the dark brown earth...

It is Spring once more.

My concerns and worries that accumulated with the winter snow have melted away, not to return for many months.  Yes, now I have something else on my mind. Tilling, planting, weeding. Growing with the season. I am born again, brand new. Thriving in the warmth and rain and rich soil.

I shut my eyes to the midday sun
and feel the warmth, it surrounds me.
As I wonder what, is yet to come,
This world, as of yet, it still confounds me.

So I walk on down, the hot dusty road,
As I think of whats left of my family.
My brothers, oh, like seeds on the wind,
They scatter to escape this harsh reality.

For my father-o, is long past his prime
He feels it in each step and every memory.
His friends are all gone, his hair: no longer blonde
It's been too long, three-quarters of a century.

My mother cares, for her mother and my dad,
Though she, now too is getting older.
And all she wants, in this God-forsaken world
Is her sons to come home married and sober.

All of these things, they echo round my mind,
but so do my own dreams and my desires.

Only twenty years I've lived
The love they needn't give
In the sun, these thoughts will make a man perspire.

Tired, sweaty; fingertips and arm hair singed beyond recognition. Egg yolk and beef broth smeared down a crumpled, black apron. Aching feet, back, and head after twelve hours in a cramped, screaming kitchen...Doors closed, dishes washed, liquor drunk. Sleep finds an exhausted body and a mind racing with new recipes.

Wild, unkempt branches point in every direction; covered in vines, they conceal a ground covered with shrunken, warped and misshapen apples that fill the air with the smell of ferment. This half acre plot was once only a small part of dozens of acres of upright, handsome trees bursting with ripe, crisp apples. The once quiet county road that rambled past has been straightened and now hums with traffic. Coffee shops, bars and upscale apartment sit only a hundred yards from this field and as people drive by they often wonder, "Why isn't this overgrown eyesore made into something more useful, a Walgreens perhaps. After all, everyone needs condoms, headache medicine and sleeping pills."

Somewhere in the quiet distance, I hear it. The sound I have been waiting for. The echo of it rumbles far and wide across the land. I look around and see the frightened and confused faces. I also see knowing smirks on some faces that are then quickly hidden. I try to blend into the crowd but somehow they know. In their fear and confusion they are capable of almost anything and I begin to doubt myself. But soon they realize what I have done, they realize that I have utilized the most dangerous tool in my arsenal. I did not fire a gun, I did not plant a bomb, I instead planted an idea. An idea that will quickly spread across the land and threaten their way of life. They are scared, they are anxious, but best of all...they are intrigued.

The moon is obscured by clouds and a thick fog settles into the valley. The rain has stopped but thunder still cracks ominously in the distance. Lightning illuminates the horizon as if a great battle were taking place. The warm summer breeze rolls through the trees as I walk home with my thoughts.