Ploughing Poem by Gert Strydom

While walking on patrol,
busy with military service
I saw some natives ploughing
using a horse or ox or donkey
that never seemed weary
with a ancient blade thing
saw the neatly dug furrow

and remembered the first time
that I did plough on a tractor
with the clutch the deciding factor
and pulled away much too suddenly
drawing clouds of clay and grime
and it seesawing on back wheels
almost tipping head over heel.