December 18, 2006

Plowman's Farewell

Who was that man? I’m busy with my plow;
I’ve rived these furrows twenty years, and now
he tells me, “Follow me” — but can’t say how
or where I’ll earn my bread, or where I’ll stay
to pass the frigid night.
                                          What did he say?
“Foxes have holes but I’ve no place to lay
my head.” Some invitation! On your way,
idealist; perhaps some other day.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
December 18, 2006


2 comments:

Grandmère Mimi said...

Lovely poem, Tobias. How many times have I given that answer?

Frank said...

...and appropriate for the times.