F I R S T G E O R G I C
Poor old earth we live off
nobody here loves you
but nobody
not even the boy
who looks over his
shoulder to see if
you curl and fold over
properly against the
steel concavity of the
blades behind the tractor.
Cussing out the gears
he half remembers
some old praise of you
as he works at holding
the wheel
in such a way
it is no joy to see him sweat.