Tomato sandwiches, homemade bread with crusts, mayonnaise, wax paper, and plums.
Sealers of water gone warm.
Blackened hands from a special type of greasy dust.
Grasshoppers on the dash and mice nests under the seat.
The constant grind of the auger, the urgent call on the CB along with the smell of gas and sweat.
Pity not those who are regulated to peeling potatoes and making harvest meals ...at least they rarely know of what they
have missed.
have missed.
All is quite now. Just a bit of breeze tickling the empty chaff caught in the harsh unnatural verticle brush cut like
straightness of dry and empty stalks. A mouse vainly seeks cover from watchful eyes from far above. Just the worn tracks
of heavy laden vehicles that have left paths that are at once dusty black but also as firm as bike lane concrete give
testimony to the frenzied energy spent not even one afternoon ago.
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