Watching Things Grow - Nov 8 2023

 

Watching Things Grow

Nov 8 2023

I gaze out over the field

in the cool light of dawn.

Watching things grow,

and seeing only stillness

as if time had stopped.

A feeling of eternity

in the minute or so

I stood looking on.

Green plants

in long neat rows,

dew-dropped leaves

drinking in the sun.

Unassuming crops

like eggplant and cabbage

turnips and beets;

root vegetables

growing humbly

underground.

In the early morning air

the light has a clarity

that cuts laser sharp,

so every edge is hard

every colour exact;

a still life

illuminating the world

at its most elemental.

I am filled

with a feeling of calm,

as if some ground truth

had been laid out before me

free to take or leave.

A balance and order.

A sense of what's important

and what is not.

A certainty

that all is well in the world.

Anything can happen, of course

— drought, bugs, frost —

but for now

the fields are as they've always been

since our people settled here

generations ago,

year after year

our strong callused hands

in its rich black soil.

An old country

of warm sun and fertile earth.

And the people who belong,

growing up

with its air in our lungs and dust in our pores.

Hard-workers

who have learned to read its moods

and accept its uncertainties.

Good stewards

who care for the land,

are grateful

for what it gives back.

And who, in return

are shaped by it.