Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Rain & Harvest to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
The ploughman drove his oxen down the last long row of clay,
As the sun went burning crimson at the closing of the day.
The blade turned up the dark earth in a wave of fragrant brown,
And the gulls came down behind him like a snowfall coming down.
His hands were rough as bark, and his back was bent with years,
But his eyes were bright with hoping and his face was free of tears.
He had ploughed this field for forty years, and every furrow told
Of a season's toil and hope, and the harvest that they hold.
When the last line met the hedgerow, he unhitched the weary team,
And he stood in silent wonder, like a man inside a dream.
For the ploughman sows in patience, and he trusts the coming rain,
And he knows the earth will answer with a bounty of the grain.
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Commentary
The ploughman comes to the end of his last row at sunset. In him the poem sees a lifetime of patient work and a simple trust in the earth.
“The ploughman drove his oxen down the last long row of clay, as the sun went burning crimson at the closing of the day.” The blade turns “the dark earth in a wave of fragrant brown,” and “the gulls came down behind him like a snowfall.” His “hands were rough as bark, and his back was bent with years,” but his eyes are “bright with hoping.”
He “had ploughed this field for forty years,” and every furrow tells “a season’s toil and hope.” When the row ends, he “unhitched the weary team” and stands “in silent wonder.” The poem says that “the ploughman sows in patience” and “knows the earth will answer with a bounty of the grain.”