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Summer 2007
POETRY
Ancestral
Morning
BY BRIAN LOWRY
The hunters, men I've
known long, wait in silence
while I work scythe through pasture, quietly.
The web of an orb spider changes my course.
The dew-wed grasses accept the whetted blade.
Goldenrod stems release sweet fragrances
with every step. The dogs have begun
their yelping well across the field, out where
brambles, saplings, and shrubs make haven for game.
The men smile. I sweep along. The dogs bellow on.
There is an ancient gladness over us all,
over which we have no power, only the hope
to be woven deeply into this ancestral moment.
Brian Lowry writes from the southern Indiana farm he shares with
his wife and young daughter. His creative work has appeared in
Farming Magazine: People, Land, and Community; The Quill;
on HDTV's "Flower Gardening" and WFPL radio's "HomeGrown"; and in
several newspapers.
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