Pasture

With bush hog in tow we rumble on to meet
Rag weed and grass.  Earphones and earmuffs
mute the diesel’s roar to a purr.  With throttle
Wide open, we chop and hack around the old
Willow tree in the southeast corner, the blades
Whirling knee-length grass to stubble.  The
Tractor’s tires bounce over the mole hills.
Swallows swoop and feast on evicted bugs.
The hour passes, then two
Back to the barn with the hydraulics up.
I put my hands in the freezer to stop the
Vibrations, but only time can calm them now.
Amber waves of grain reduced to sporadic lines