Fallow Field Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Fallow Field



Here I stand
Basket in hand
My shadow falling on fallow land
Ready to broadcast my seed.

And yet, I find myself hesitant
To throw out the first handful
With that natural snap of the wrist
That scatters the seed so evenly.

I see all the other workers on the move,
Purposefully dispersing their allotted share
From the burlap sacks on the back of the truck.
But something keeps me from moving mindlessly.

Instead, I inspect my basket.
I notice the weave is loose.
I see a broken reed or two.
I strap it on my back and stand up straight.

And then I turn around and walk away.
Away from the waiting field.
Away from the beaten dirt road.
Away from the others who stare in amazement.

I pick up my pace and put a bounce in my stride.
As I jiggle my basket, seeds slip through gaps
Like flour through a sieve or light through fine linen.
I tell myself that each grain that is meant to will take root.

As I walk along I am joined by a mongrel dog.
As we pass by, people stop and whisper,
Rumors begin to spread ahead of me
Of a crazy lady who whistles as she walks.

Nobody knows where I'm going, not even me.
But I have left a trail of sunflower seeds
Most of which must have become bird feed
But the rest will lead west into the wild.

Maybe someday there will be a trail of yellow flowers
Leading anyone like me to a place where they can be free
To grow their own crops on their own patch of land
Without being beholden to those who would harness them.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: freedom
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Deepak Manchanda 07 July 2015

A trail of yellow flowers leading to a place where we can all be free...a lovely poem. Thanks

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Suzanne Hayasaki

Suzanne Hayasaki

Menomonee Falls, WI, USA
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