And I'll sprout like a blade of grass. But a rye-stalk trapped in ice While pecking through to the sky. I'll smoke, and they'll fly off, for sure. Furrows stretching towards the sun's ball. Bleached fog spreads through the countryside.
Clouds arise like pink pillows on high.
Let's spread sacks on the clods and lie down. And watch blackbirds seek the first furrow. We're watering cows. The chain hits the weeds Like a pike. On the pond water wrinkles crawl.