sow

You reap what you sow – Seeds hit the fertile earth in large fistfuls, tumbling from great heights as they make little depressions in the dirt. These little spaces are their beds. They will sleep well tonight and become wind-blown and damp by morning. Crops are a staple of any agricultural economy. Humans need food. Humans need to eat. Humans need fresh food, fruits and vegetables. Tall stalks of corn on the cob that one can become lost in; A maze on a cool fall afternoon, the entrance and exits marked with haybales. Music reverberates across a dark field. Jack-0-lanterns are carved into horrifying expressions, candle-lit from the inside. The hardened wax of a candle freezes into all sorts of strange shapes. I like to peel it in ribbons, the hard wax smooth and curled. Black and orange plaid shirt hangs on a scarecrow’s body. His eyes, nose, and mouth are roughly sewn patches. He is cartoonish, yet effective. I guess crows don’t watch a lot of Nickelodeon. I guess crows never saw their debut in Dumbo. I guess those crows never heard of Brooklyn. Cement benches chipping away in parks that provide poor comfort, but anything’s better than the dirt. Because humans are not seeds, we just eat their fruit. We grow, change, and die but the comparison stops there. Mushrooms and eggplants.

Author: Roe

30. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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