July 2022
Douglas Brown
dwbrown49@gmail.com
Bio Note: I am a retired firefighter living in the deep south with heat, humidity and trees. I suspect, over time, the land and weather becomes us and perhaps our writing; at least at times for some.

A Plowman's Moon

Earning a miner's poor hearing
Night felt brilliantly
Silent.
Fluorescent shadows hug the hollows
Cupped by old hills logged and farmed bald that
Generations cut, scraping life on a slant.
A yellow rototiller leans
Upon two wheels and shining tines
Alongside the tin pole barn.

The night was bright enough to plow,
Light enough to quiet owls,
Subtle enough to hide scars.
©2022 Douglas Brown
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