Let October’s fool fall With the autumn dusk; A cornfield tatterdemalion With terrible teeth And broomstick hands. High on the hill, Encircled by dancing children And harvest lovers, Jack’s pumpkin blazes As yellow as prairie gold Under the ghostly lantern moon.
A belated Halloween experiment - partially reconstituted poetry. More dilute and less tasty than its CS inspiration. ;)
‘I spot the hills With yellow ***** in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins. On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon; I am a jack-o'-lantern With terrible teeth And the children know I am fooling.’ - Carl Sandburg, Theme in Yellow
It seems this week has taken to its own will chased me down the hill into the prairie as it came close to lunchtime –the starving lads crying– the whetstone ready its hands skinning my lips, for once I am glad there are no feathers anywhere close to my mouth –at least I can keep my wings
My Dakota plains Broken by clusters of trees That surround farms Connected by black thin lines Draped between poles That follow roads
Or a shortcut across fields On giant steel mannequins Standing watch over Corn, beans, sunflower Or cows or horses Or sheep
On My Dakota prairie With rich black dirt That feed crops And sustain our towns Our clusters of life Our family and self.
While South Dakota is so much more than agriculture, our ancestry that came here generations ago dug their roots in deep and nurtured this place in our hearts. It is a beautiful place... sometimes harsh, but a glorious place to take in.
to take pieces of land, like pie purchased and stolen, like monopoly and make it into something else, like Europe
this was our promise
so like good soldiers we planted our rows cottonwood manioc peas and beans painted flowers on walls and floors, like our mothers built porches for rocking chairs to gather the children and tell them all about it, like refugees
the roots are deep now but the ancient fear deeper we glance over our shoulders, still suspicious of our luck awaiting the act of god that will surely come, like karma