The first verse is a faithful telling of something that happened which my eldest grandson has likely forgotten, and which I had forgotten too, until I rediscovered the poem. The verses that follow are still happening.
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A Book and Boy
A book and boy in his lap, a farmer tells
his grandson how a big combine cuts the wheat,
and loaves of fresh-baked bread come out
the other end. They compare hands.
The mind — well, the mind is really just a pitchfork
full of loose hay, and frogs, and owls,
and wagon-rides, with some starlight thrown in,
and you grind it into flour somehow,
add some rain, and the sun turns it into bread.
There’s a big brick oven up there —
between the ears, that is.
And a heaven
down here.
The order doesn’t matter as much
as the tool at hand.
Recently Banned Literature, June 3, 2013
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Categories: Recently Banned Literature
Tags: Books, Bread, Child and Man, Childhood, Farmers, Frogs, Hands, Heaven, Memory, Owls, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Starlight, Wheat
William Michaelian 