Prompt: "unlikely couples"
Title: "The Ancient Farmer Goes for a Spin"
My granddaughter stopped by to take me for a ride on her Harley,
remembering how I much I always loved spring.
Weeks can go by without ever setting foot outdoors, living at "the club"
so I was a tad surprised when I got my first whiff of it.
Manure on the fields already? It's only the third week of April.
They are always reminding us about the days and the months,
as if they could make us care, like our teachers tried to make us care
about the Romans and Spartans and their endless battles.
They never could and we still don't care. But it was good to get out
and see the fields already tilled smooth. Granddaughter said winter
ended early this year, that's why the farmers have started.
I'd have asked her not to drive down Cooleyville way,
if I'd thought of it, but once the motor starts up she can't hear a thing.
They're nice enough houses, and the builders need the work,
but I remember when those fields were dancing with white potato flowers.
At least the wild oats are shooting up by the reservoir. Were they always so green?
Some of my friends at "the club" have died in their sleep.
I've thought about how, before they did, they had one last dream.
Perhaps this is it.