Auld Lang Syne (48)

//Auld Lang Syne (48)

Auld Lang Syne (48)

I’m still in love,
It turns out,
After all this time.
Where else was there to be?

The woman walks her dog
Along the sidewalk, conspicuously
Avoiding eye contact, and
I can’t know her pain.

The boy stares into his screen,
Watching himself play himself,
And I look over his shoulder,
My own blue eyes reflected.

Those nested acres of earth
Tucked between the highway and
The exit ramp, a laboratory of
Saplings and garbage, invisible—

When do we smell the soil,
And what do we notice?
I cup it to my nose
Like damp potter’s clay,

Determined to become whole,
Breathing the dark,
Crumbling chunks that
Smell of old books.

Remaining in love,
There is no apart—
I am at the world’s service,
Tracking mud through the rain.

Listen. Once a year we sing
Auld Lang Syne,
Intuitive hymn,
Praising kindness!

We stare into strangers’ eyes,
Swept into whatever’s next.
As if it could ever be otherwise,
We resolve for nothing less.

By | 2019-12-30T22:16:34-05:00 December 30th, 2019|Farm|1 Comment

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.

One Comment

  1. Sandra Kalscheur January 1, 2020 at 2:35 pm - Reply


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