across the fields, windrows as straight as die

The news. It strikes her

like the force of gail winds

during a hurricane season

she often sees never.

All is lost and he

along with it. She should

have known better. A smarter

woman would have. The old

dump rake needed fixing.

She had known better.

But when she learns of

the accident in their hay fields,

her hands never stop moving.

With one hand she firmly grasps

the one quart glass jar

and with the other, the wooden handle,

which she continues to crank.

Turn upon turn upon turn.

Not enough butter in the ice box,

she says, holding up

the container of milk cream.

She should have known

they needed more

for evening supper.


[In response to the Daily Prompt: Bludgeon]




7 thoughts on “across the fields, windrows as straight as die

Comments are closed.