Farm

The
horizon boils
over spills into the
big field a
sunlit farmer
folds himself into the corn
stalks and follows
earth's quiet curve
with palms cupped
for gather and posture
sculpted by smiling floorboards
a front porch
cradles a concentration of
brown nuts and ladybug husks
a dead fly or two

what spilled from the horizon
drips up the porch steps, drinks
milky orange shingles
and

the sunlit farmer picks his way
through the tall corn each step
revealing the glory of
that which is uninterrupted