I could do with a harvest moon

The harvest moon shines for itself and the corn we no longer reap or sow, We cultivate the blue screens. 24/09/2018 — With a turn towards the autumnal, the sense of harvest comes into the air. This poem from 2018 echoes ideas about work in the modern age in contrast with a more agrarian past

TUMBLING AFTER

Over here on the hill I try to drop the pail. In the valley you scythe the bending wheat.   When the grain is ground to flour, you will carry it in a sack to my kitchen. There on the table kneaded under the heel of my hand   I’ll remember the autumn, Jack when