Field work

He had dinner early and now, on this evening in spring,

hours stretch in front of him as he makes his way to his plough.

When his John Deere detects the holder of her keys, she flashes

a welcome that is reflected in the mounted, soil-sanded blades.

Once inside, he sinks into the air-suspended seat, while controls

light up to fill the panoramic cabin with an almost cosy glow.

It then takes a fingertip to shudder the colossus into life, 

before a display of the terrain signals the all clear - he is alone.

As he drifts straightforwardly into the long shadows that are now

halfway across the field, he glances back at his dark, sunlit trail.

When the GPS lifts the moldboards, he waits for the machine

to turn around and to hook itself relentlessly into new coordinates.

The muffled and reassuring drone of the engine slowly turns into

a healing chant that buries any worry and brings up a fresh calm.

Tomorrow, he will go back to a world that needs ploughmen like him,

who draw lines and break hardened grounds by going to and fro.