Farm Poem 2

//Farm Poem 2

Farm Poem 2

Farming is commonly the stressor and the therapy both at once. Some crazy job! The trick, of course, is being grateful for the good, and maintaining healthy perspective regarding the not-so-good. Again, quite a task; for me, writing helps. Here’s an example:

Farm Poem 2

To our lady of broken boards,
Saints of rotted fence posts,
Guardian angels of leaking barn roofs;

To ghosts of harvests failed,
Shades of pastures paltry,
Spirits of humus future;

To the Jesus of bent nails,
Buddha of clogged filters,
Vishnu of dead batteries,

We leave our skin, scraped and torn,
Our palms, our knuckles—

To DJs of dubious country lyrics,
Pink cammoed confederates,
Dating sites of bucolic animosity;

To two-star Yelp reviewers of February eggs,
Arugula-shaming Facebookies,
Instagrammers of self-anointed pulchritude;

To politicians feckless and infecund,
Thirty-nine cent turkey hucksters,
Fuelers and feeders who gaslight fooders;

Our self-righteous indifference hard-won,
We leave a thousand mile stare—

To petri-petro-burger enablers,
Vegan bacon warriors,
Flexitarians of prodigious fluctuations;

To lines eternal at Chick-fil-A,
Invisaligned teeth ribboned with flesh,
Mouths stretch-stuffed with white feathers;

To daydream dreamers of perfect sleeps;
Nightmare-sleepers of Saturday nights;
Lucid dreams of re-dreamed workdays;

We leave the numbers of our therapists—
Talking our way to stillness, dollars forever well-spent—

And to carrots cosmically entwined,
Baler twine torqued into pristine knots,
Stars dropped like matches from midnight skies;

To fragrantly seasoned firewood,
Broken-in brown coats,
6,000 hour tractors;

To dogs mostly good,
Milk-eyed barn cats,
The goat that talked us out of goats;

To exes of inestimable patience,
Spouses and partners of inestimable patience,
Future lovers of inestimable patience,

We leave heart-shaped stones,
Unpocketed haphazard on the hearth,
Plucked fresh from the tilth
Where soil, once clinging, crumbles.

By | 2019-02-02T11:20:02-04:00 January 31st, 2019|Farm|6 Comments

About the Author:

Forrest Pritchard is a full-time sustainable farmer and New York Times bestselling author, holding a BA in English and a BS in Geology from William & Mary. Smith Meadows, his farm, was one of the first “grass finished” operations in the country, and has sold at leading farmers’ markets in the Washington DC area for two decades. Pritchard's books have received starred reviews from The Washington Post, Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, NPR, and more.

6 Comments

  1. Julie February 2, 2019 at 6:54 pm - Reply

    Yes – the ying and yang of life. We must take the not-so-good with the good and we learn from both. I like your perspective!

    • Forrest Pritchard February 10, 2019 at 9:36 am

      One great story arc. Or sphere. Or infinite spheres within spheres. Or… 🙂

  2. robswennes February 5, 2019 at 6:57 am - Reply

    Forrest — I’m glad to see you are still putting your college English major to good use, even as you till and replace worn out fence posts in an unending cycle. The therapeutic value of your poetry and book writing to you and to all of us is immense!

    • Forrest Pritchard February 10, 2019 at 9:35 am

      Very kind, thanks Rob. I find much therapeutic value in setting new fence posts 🙂

  3. ellen polishuk February 5, 2019 at 7:07 am - Reply

    Awesome Forrest, every one of these images comes alive for me

    • Forrest Pritchard February 10, 2019 at 9:37 am

      Plugging along in the trenches, Ellen 😉

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