Poem: Harvest

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Abstract

toes, with a grace that I knew to be within me, but I didn’t stretch because I didn’t want to confuse my muscles. I couldn’t remove them from their work.</p><p id="223d">The sharp edges of my body slid like slabs of rock over the landscape. My mind moved like that of a bird, looking down and gathering food, and thinking of little else.</p><p id="8ecd">** This poem is based on a brief time I spent working on a farm in Arizona. My time there reminded me of my grandfather. I have a photo of him in a sleeveless shirt, looking muscular, standing next to a tractor.</p><p id="d045"><i>This poem is a submission to the Promptly Written 2023 Poetry Writing Contest:</i></p><div id="d8b7" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/pws-2023-poetry-writing-contest-762e92afa14c"> <div> <div> <h2>PW’s 2023 Poetry Writing Contest</h2> <div><h3>With prompts and monetary prizes</h3></div>

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  <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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    </div><p id="b16b"><i>This poem is based on the prompt “harvest” from The Storyteller’s Vault:</i></p><div id="d4c9" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://readmedium.com/poetry-writing-prompts-week-twenty-three-ea0f085ac53d">
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            <h2>Poetry Writing Prompts — Week Twenty-Three</h2>
            <div><h3>Writing prompts for June 4th to 10th</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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Harvest

My body had edges and corners, sharper than the lines on my grandfather’s body in my only photo of him.

He posed next to a tractor, but nobody taught me to use the machines that summer. I only picked the crops, working like an animal, too smart to stay for long and too dumb to do well while I stayed.

I’d never felt so dumb and useful. In the mornings I was scared to get out of bed, but I was more scared to leave, so I worked. By lunchtime, I was hypnotized. I would hear a dim ringing in my ears, underneath the sounds of birds and men.

I would close my eyes and imagine reaching down to touch my toes, with a grace that I knew to be within me, but I didn’t stretch because I didn’t want to confuse my muscles. I couldn’t remove them from their work.

The sharp edges of my body slid like slabs of rock over the landscape. My mind moved like that of a bird, looking down and gathering food, and thinking of little else.

** This poem is based on a brief time I spent working on a farm in Arizona. My time there reminded me of my grandfather. I have a photo of him in a sleeveless shirt, looking muscular, standing next to a tractor.

This poem is a submission to the Promptly Written 2023 Poetry Writing Contest:

This poem is based on the prompt “harvest” from The Storyteller’s Vault:

Poem: Harvest

poetry writing contest response

Harvest

PW’s 2023 Poetry Writing Contest

With prompts and monetary prizes

Poetry Writing Prompts — Week Twenty-Three

Writing prompts for June 4th to 10th