The Wild Carrot Field
by Susan Pendelton
Sun browned field,
Wild carrots dipping;
My task to pull them
while the minutes go slipping.
In beauty bending,
Nodding in grace
Shimmering, pestilent
Queen Anne's lace;
Two thousand, three thousand
Grime and stain.
Last year, this year,
Next year again.
Some folks pity,
Seeing me bend.
"She has a task
that will never end."
Yet there comes strangely,
Plodding like this,
Almost hopeless,
Some hint of bliss.
Red sun slanting,
Shadows so fair!
I pause to worship
With head bare.
Wiping the sweat
With torn sleeve.
(There is a heaven
I do believe.)
Colors deepen
With shadowing.
Beauty holds me.
Imprisoning.
Little wind blowing
Sets the lace shaking.
Loveliness here
For a heart is breaking,
Let me continue,
Six, seven-
If I stop too sudden
It might snap heaven.
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