The Staff Of Life

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??