I See The Rows Going By Poem by Patti Masterman

I see the rows going by
They seem so far away, though mere feet:
Going on forever; rows of green plants laid out straight
Endlessly going by me; their greenness seemingly disconnected
From their animate yearning, for color and texture
Bestowed by sun, rain and season.

I see the rows going by
And I think then, that I am another sort of plant:
The kind that comes up anywhere; but to no obvious purpose
Perhaps not in the best of places, or the right time or reason
Of indeterminate color and habituation.
And I feel more distant, than the farthest end of the row
If it reached halfway around the world, without ever ceasing.

I see the rows going by
And they have been there; peacefully growing, for ages now:
Have known the oxen's plodding; the farmer's ready hoe,
The combines turning; the truck load's careening.
My yield is different too; it turns on a different track.
Many years might go by, before anything is harvested;
And it may be a flower, or it may be a weed.
But somehow I know that I will still be there,
Inside of whatever it finally makes of itself.