Long Poems About Wendell Berry

There are no unsacred places,  
only sacred places, and desecrated places '  
                   - Wendell Berry    
   
I  
   
In the country where arose  
the soft grasses bearing your name  
in their blooming stalks, I imagined    
myself walking into the heart of  
the yellow cover crop, bare.  
   
II  
   
Flitting by, a songbird was your spirit  
Its chirping breaking the soft lull of    
wind through your hair, dancing with    
purple specks of tiny flowers barely known of;   ...

For he stood so tall so square and looked across the acreage
Countenanced all that panorama, it seemed endangered
The heavy horse the last to graze straw bales
He lifted up the old straw hat and scratch his pate

His disquiet, wrinkled brow like furrows in the field
The bees that seek the pollen, a wasp that agitates
We must he thought, let nature evolve at its own pace
But short term gains mean fields turned into plains
 
The engines belched out smoke, the crows flew up and squawked
Divorced from dirty hands the reaper smash...