It was afternoon in my room
Thru the window came the voice
Of my brother born before I
Asking me to try something new
So I got to it
Leaving my room, grabbed my shoes
Out the door
Up the hill a little ways
There it stood, in all it’s orange-painted beauty
“Crank her up” my dad said
I obliged, it sputtered to life
The exhaust rain cap did a little dance, letting the smoke come out
I hopped on beside my dad
Up the hill we went some more
At the top, I got off to spot
Pin thru implement hitch, drawbar, hitch
Cotter key in pin
Out of the shed came my dad, bag of grain in his hands
As the grain poured out of the bag, I went to get another
Soon the hopper was filled
So off we went to drill the field, me on the back, my dad steering it all
“Put it down to 3”
My hands wrapped around the handles, left one gave way
but right one put up a fight, sun shining down, I squeezed with all my might
Could I do it? It complied
Depth set, furrow cutters down, chains of hooks
Off we went, I checked for flow
Peering around
I saw seed falling down
Dark soil of furrows, accepting them
Around the field we went
Past the outhouse, beside the high tunnel
Hopper cover opened, cones of air from where the grain goes out
Looking out, I think ahead,
All those little seeds
Weathering thru the winter
To spring forth and flourish
Last grain down the holes
Job done, grain drill unhitched
Tractor in the shed
Father and son walk down the hill
Dinner bell rings
I run down, in the door, wash my hands
All seated, we hold hands and pray
Now to eat something familiar, after doing new things
On the table stands a pan, steam wafting out
Being little, I can not see in, but I know baked beans reside
Cornbread got, cut and buttered
Big scoop of baked beans atop
That job wasn't half bad, and I did get beans after!
As I look back, I see a day of doing new things, squeezing thru,
and flourishing in something new.
