You in the Mercedes with a phone
clamped to your ear
honking at the farmer who’s had
the temerity to drive a tractor,
slowly, in a no-passing zone,
in front of you who think your food
comes from a bin at Whole Foods,
let me suggest you stop, get out,
ride the tractor with the farmer
and listen to him read the field
on the right and tell you
just how much rain fell or did not fall
and why there are or are not
flowers along the fence this year.
Open all the dark places in your head
and let them be lit and bloom.