Wild Persimmon (37)

The wild persimmon,
Fruited, awaits. Present
With each other, our plans
Are soon forgotten.

Purple iron weed, browning
At the pasture’s edge,
Blithely nods.
Is it autumn, again?

Difficult, to remain intent!
Even monks must chime a bell,
A chorus to remind
That breathing is helpful.

By Forrest Pritchard|2019-10-05T10:45:02-04:00October 5th, 2019|Farm|2 Comments

About the Author: Forrest Pritchard

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.

2 Comments

Jeff Vincent October 9, 2019 at 11:44 am - Reply

So many beautiful images in just 16 lines! I especially like the mental picture of the purple iron weed blithely nodding. Thanks.
- Forrest Pritchard October 15, 2019 at 1:19 pm
  
  Thanks Jeff! Yeah, I walked through an acre of drying iron weed last week, and made a mental note 🙂