The wheat has ripened to a golden wave, and the harvest has begun. Wheat is impervious to dry heat.
It likes it. I collect
the leavings the harvester missed at the row ends and along the edge of the
field, like a gleaner. Nothing should be wasted. The oats are next and then the
barley. The grains make beautiful arrangements.
Walking the field at sunset I think
of Woody Guthrie and his anthems for this land. I wonder what he would think of
the preponderance of gated communities and fences that block the view of our
lakeshores, the signs that tell us to keep out and hamper our wanderings. Woody
knew that all who wander are not lost. I’m proud that my father always posted
signs that said: Hunting Permitted. People
were respectful.
This land is your land
This land is my land
From California to the Blue Ridge Mountains
From the Gulf Stream waters
To the redwood forest,
This land was made for you and me.
As I was walking along the highway
I saw a sign that said
NO TRESPASSING
But on the back side
It didn’t say nothing
That’s the side for you and me.
-Woody Guthrie
p.s.
After posting this, I noticed the headline in Poets and Writers: A Lost Novel by Woody Guthrie
Isn't that bizarre??
p.s.
After posting this, I noticed the headline in Poets and Writers: A Lost Novel by Woody Guthrie
Isn't that bizarre??
7 comments:
There's something about the sight of a field of golden wheat that sends my heart a shuddering.
Such a beautiful post here, Yvonne. Thanks.
Elisabeth,
Thank you! Hearts a-shuddering. I love that.
Oh, for the sight of a sunny golden field! Here, it continues to rain, the wheat is green, and if things don't look up, we are in for a washout of a harvest. But I loved the poem!
Frances,
Thank you so much. I wish we could trade a little sun for rain.
When I first came to this mad land.
and my English was not yet in hand,
I saw a sign upon a wall,
which I did nit understand at all.
It seemed to say that in words I knew,
something for my mind to chew.
Now , you need to know,
English is not my first tongue, No!
I had learn it fast though here,
as another tongue, locals won't bear.
The sign said,"Bread is the staff of life! BUT; This does not mean that the life of the staff is one great loaf!"
Yvonne, I have had suggested to me by Anne Gallagher that you may be able, perhaps even willing, to helpme with my newly found "bump' for poetry. The start of this comment came to me just by looking, not even reading, your post about the wheat. Obviously I need help! (With my brain, that is!:-) ) I can't find an email address, so can you contact me PLEASE?
Gosh durn it, I forgot my copyright on my poetry! AND I saw an error after it was published, In future i will preview first.
All the glory should be ours to see...
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