Arcola, central Illinois
Postcard From Amish Country
In a pasture two matched Belgian mares
Who spring, summer and fall had pulled
Plow and harrow, harvester and hayrake
Are free now of their harness and traces,
Cropping the last of the fescue and the first
Cutting of the alfalfa and timothy hay, the
Great muscles of flanks and withers, not yet
In winter coat, rippling in the late dusk light
And the cold wind now crossing empty fields.
Nearing night and someone in the barn lights
A lamp in the doorway and calls us home.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2015-10-02 at 14:01
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