moth

potato

Field at night

For a time, why not
Grab the wheel
Keep’er steady now, were on course
The edge is dull
It’s dull as blight
Back and forth now
Straighten out

Mind the rocks, can’t stop til light
Rain a pouring no good for picking
Waves are even, tops a flying
Sea of dirt, no end in sight
Get them in before frostbite
Rack em’ up and ship them West
Were only growing the very best

Take control now I’m going home
Thermos full
Warm and bold
Drink that coffee, it’s getting old
No one leaves until we’re through
We want you for the pickin’ crew

Wing row and trucks, all lit up
Thanks to the harvesters’ lights

The shift is done, September too
Rest up, rest up, tomorrow is new

Birdman Settlement

The Man with the birds
He’s coming, he’s crowing
Angry old man wants something, is nothing
Tear it all down, dig up the ground
Birdman, who do you think you’re impressing?

Thanksgiving is here for the man and his birds
“Eat up my friends and let’s do some shooting!”
Sacred riverbed shot up with their lead
“Not my fault if people are paying”
No more weddings were held or dances were led
The man with the birds keeps taking, keeps snaking

An angry young man grew up on the land
Took back what his father had given

In the field

Bend over basket and don’t stop pickin’
That digger ain’t stopping, that flatbed is edgin’

We’ll be at Frank’s, we start at 7
Pack a good lunch, breaks at 11

Tickets in hand, marked by Fernande
Claiming my haul, russets this fall

45 paces, I’m 8 years old
A twig marks the line or so I am told

Move to the left, move to the right
Up one row, I’m going too slow

Pick up the pace, 2 rows to get in
The prisoners are quicker, I’m just too thin

My uncles help out, they tease me, don’t shout
Shorten my pace, catch up to the race

Basket in barrel, hear the them tumble in
22 and change which I cash in

Back to school I go, 2 weeks in a row
Was fun, but next year, not sure if I’ll show