22: Hear Tell

Turning in the hay ain't no treat,

but treat it be.

This field used to be

cotton far

as eyes could see

and we come out early to-day. Stacked dry

gold so high Rumpelstiltskin be pleased;

his beautiful daughter envious of this wealth

spun from high grass

on the wheel

of the sun. Her job done in the gleam of her King's smile.

All day and eight squares up we ride

at the top. The smell

of health on our skin, our bodies. Rich alfalfa

so green, nine squares high -

then to heaven: back to the barn

with the birds on sky like specs in this

slow wagon

the sun

goes down

on my giant throne, all a gleam. My skin polished.

The master at the horses with a whip, way down below where I find myself.