I stared at the red soil –
feeling accomplished and proud.
Ironic to see death in soon growth,
a sense of gratitude emitted
from my natural surroundings.
One-hundred years of faithful
service perfectly exemplified
in an ominous single-action.
The doves fluttered at the crack
and rumble of a wise thoroughbred.
With a rooted grip, I leveled the sites
like a planted field of symmetry.
The powerful figure trembled
like a kicked hound at the smooth
racking of a maintained slide.
My poise remained as balanced as
a peregrine with the weighted
click of seven horsemen.
John Browning’s most distinct breed
solidly clutched in my hand.
Canola, soy, corn. Wheat is next
to be destroyed by greed.
I will enforce the laws of nature
with pure fertilization, planting a permanent
seed in our land of excess.
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