Every once in a while I come across a poem and think, "Mom would like this." (For example, the one I posted here.) She loves to play the just-a-dumb-PE-teacher card. But--and I know she would totally mind that I'm pulling back the curtain on her brain here--she double majored in Physical Education and English in college, then went on to complete her Masters in Education, and a significant amount of coursework beyond her Masters. When asked why she did not go for a PhD, she replied that it would rendered her fit for only administration or university work. And that wasn't her cup of tea.
"Waking on the Farm"
by Robert Bly
I can remember the early mornings—how the stubble,
A little proud with frost, snapped as we walked.
How the John Deere tractor hood pulled heat
Away from our hands when we filled it with gas.
And the way the sun brought light right out of the ground.
It turned on a whole hill of stubble as easily as a single stone.
Breathing seemed frail and daring in the morning.
To pull in air was like reading a whole novel.
The angleworms, turned up by the plow, looked
Uneasy like shy people trying to avoid praise.
For a while we had goats. They were like turkeys
Only more reckless. One butted a red Chevrolet.
When we washed up at noon, we were more ordinary.
But the water kept something in it of the early morning.