How A Century Farm Begins

Inside a small farmhouse where
women grind grain for the bread
while the wind turns the gristmill and the men
wrest a living from the rock-laden soil,
through hot summers and bitter cold winters,
the grain, seed for next year's planting,
lies protected from heat and cold and wet
in a tightly sealed room with no windows
in the middle of the house.

Children are forbidden to play here.
Mice and rodents dare not chance the wrath
of the farmer's wife with her sharp blade,
Like fairy tale princesses the seeds slumber
in safety, dreaming of languid summer days,
blue skies and occasional rain.

In spring, the door to the room is opened
all but a small amount of the seed removed.
The fields are sown, produce grain
to feed the livestock, cows give birth,
provide milk for their young with enough left over
for the human babies who will soon grow
large enough to help plant the seed,
cut the grain, thrash it and store it
for the next generation, in the room
with no windows in the middle of the house.