Last Day of Harvest, Last Day of Summer

Some days, like today,
language is not words.

Crow hops to my side
ahead of the combine
tilting his wings
polished granite
catching the sun.

Three hawks
tired of watching from chokecherry bushes,
soar, one by one, not quite
joining wings aloft, a family
hunting together.

Little brown birds,
sparrows perhaps,
slip into the swath, oblivious
to danger. They always appear again
in time.

Even the hum
of this huge machine
is like a lullaby today,
singing another harvest to sleep,
putting another season to rest.

~ Susanne von Rennenkampff

Susanne writes: “I immigrated from Germany in 1981 and have lived on a grain farm in central Alberta since. Fascinated by the interaction between humans and nature my poetry and memoir pieces often deal with this topic.”

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