For my Grandfather, Gerald Eugene Matlock (1892-1984)
Silent, the old red Farmall stands,
within the shadow of the dairy barn
frost all about, the white March morning chill
as Gerald, 80, stiffly climbs aboard
and in the gray light of the prairie dawn
ascends his seat and calmly turns the key.
As if surprised by his return, it wakes
uneasily then grumbles back to life.
As Gerald lights his pipe, pulls down his cap,
he finds reverse, and backs into the yard
then wheels the now content machine on down
the gentle grade beside the hayloft doors,
down past the low gray milk shed, through the gate
and out into the Matlock family farm.
Behind them, heavy tires now leave a path,
a herringbone of black against the frost.
And out beyond the wooded hill, the sun
is beaming warmly through the budding elms,
as Gerald drives between these trees that stand
uncut from pioneer days, crests the rise,
on through the final gate into the field.
He sits and bangs his pipe against the steel
below his feet. At least five dozen years
he's tilled this field. He lights his pipe again
then turns and, easy, moves the lever down
to drop the harrow. Worn steel curving discs
slice shallow through the soil on this first pass.
Eight minutes fence to fence.
He lifts the disc and turns, now facing back
where he has been. He drops the disc again
and gently yields the clutch. He is at peace.
Eight minutes fence to fence.
Once more he lifts the disc and turning back,
he thinks of Sunday’s sermon, and the smiles
of his granddaughters in the choir, the smell
of frying chicken in an iron pan.
Eight minutes fence to fence
He finds his mind out on the buggy, back
in 1912, and driving out with hopes
to take a ride with lovely Lillian,
the eldest daughter of stern Reverend Ward,
and just before a year was out, they wed.
Eight minutes fence to fence.
His father’s father’s father turned this soil,
a hundred years of Matlocks on one farm,
their stories come to mind with each fresh pass.
The harrow runs just seven inches deep,
eight minutes fence to fence, while Gerald plows
a century below and tills the sky.