The Plot
The ground is knackered – nothing grows
too many years a single crop
So small potatoes, broken rows
is all the grey clay throws up top
***
The garden knows I chance my arm
Unconscious, she still cops my game
Expecting more, ungrateful farm
I hack, and hoe, and wildlife blame
***
No kinder, sterner lord than death
who gives in time, but only thus,
Earth and space his living breath-
steady circles Erebus
A line from the song “Eve of Destruction”, a very wise Bob Dylan wrote and I quote “There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave”.
A thought provoking poem, Ross, 🙏
That first line - brilliant. Yet the poem is tinged with memories of famine. What do we do when the earth says enough - I’m knackered- no more?