Vox Populi
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Naomi Shihab Nye: Little Farmer
With love, to Earthdance Farm
.
She pulled us up the hill in a red wagon.
We rolled home with brown sacks in our laps.
Later I worked at Mueller’s Organic Farm,
the rows knew my step.
I plucked berries gently, never bruising.
They paid 5 cents a box, it felt like a lot.
All my life has had that light, square shape.
Such ruddy sunstruck pride
in the farmers named Al and Caroline,
Al loved his mounds of squash, sacks of beans,
with fierce intensity. Caroline said Nope, I only
love him. Their okra bore an essence of perfection,
ripe corn whispered inside its perfect sheaves
and drifty web of hair. You are here, it said.
You will always be here. Years later Al told me,
Your mother was the most lovely person
who ever walked up my drive, that long shiny
ponytail, those huge eyes. She asked
the best questions. That shows intelligence.
He sang me songs, lost love and lonely stars.
I had never known he played a guitar.
Why didn’t I ask more questions?
The lives spun out. He wanted me to stay.
I wish I could harvest his patience
from fifty years away. Al long dead,
his dutiful Caroline dead, their farm still
a farm though, one victory! I’d tell him
how right he was about slowness,
the path of sunlight through leaves,
how dirt has always befriended me,
birdcalls beyond,
how his shy smile, waving goodbye with a hoe,
stayed with me forever, how no tomato
was ever better than the one he held in his hand.
Copyright 2023 Naomi Shihab Nye. All rights reserved.
First published in The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace and Renewal edited by James Crews (Storey Publishing, 2023).
Naomi Shihab Nye recently served as the Young People’s Poet Laureate of the United States (Poetry Foundation). Her recent books include Everything Comes Next: Collected & New Poems and The Tiny Journalist. She lives in San Antonio.
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To be remembered so… Isn’t that what we most wish for as mortality starts to rear it’s ugly head?
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Oh, yes….
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I love Naomi’s poetry it’s beauty mirrors a beautiful person. One of the hardest parts of having a stroke was being unable to attend a workshop, scheduled before the plague, rescheduled, but by then my feeling the powerlessness of having to stay close to medical facilities. I treasure the workshops before. Maybe someday… seems to be my new mantra. Oh and there was a beautiful organic farm on the way to the workshops.
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Barbara, what a lovely prose poem. Thank you.
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Such a love-life poem, a perfect read to start the day! ”
I’d tell him
how right he was about slowness,
the path of sunlight through leaves,
how dirt has always befriended me, “
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Yes. A love-life poem. Exactly.
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How much life and truth there is in the simplicity of this poem. Thank you!
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Life and truth, yes.
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Such a delicate poem. And perfect for September…just as we here in NH start thinking how our gardens, friends, and family come into their own, then leave. The memories and gifts they leave behind….
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Thank you. Here in Pittsburgh we are nearing the end of the growing season. Our tomatoes are ripening. The deer have eaten the roses, and lantern flies are swarming. Soon we’ll be harvesting the gourds for Halloween.
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Oh, the wonder of small things. How much we need this now and always.
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Yes, how much we need Naomi’s clear compassionate voice.
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She is the Capitol of “Good News” of the human sphere. How much Peace and Sensibility—the prime ingredients of hope—can our species contain? A new test could be conducted with her to find out its sheer enormity. We could thus reset everything on the way to our new world, beginning with vision and desire.
Let’s go there now!
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Let’s go there now!
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Naomi Shihab Nye is a great poet.Every poem of her has a new word of compassion and humanity
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Thank you, Fraideh. I agree!
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