In Praise of the Shadows

from Miracle Strip by Matt Layne

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about

Sound:
Scything on Sand Mountain, AL

lyrics

In Praise of the Shadow

All summer the apples have wept
at their fate.
While the pears have all praised
their particular shape.
The wheat is all shorn.
The tobacco is hung
to brown to brown to brown
like our lungs.

Come fieldlings and fetchlings
and darlings and dons.
Come whistling and winking
and turn now to nod
at all that grows brown
as brown as our lungs.

The reaper gathers all we have sown.
In darkness everybody’s alone.
Eyes open wide ...
What was that sound?
The sound of the reaper
walking on bones.

Come shadows draw close,
as tight as a drum.
Come darkness and kiss me
before daylight is spun.

The nesting. The nesting.
The burrowing down.
Fall leaves. Fall apples.
Fall all of the crowns.
Fall down and turn brown.
Fall down and turn brown.
Let shadows take me
until I am ground.

The reaper gathers all we have sown.
In darkness everybody’s alone.
Eyes open wide ...
What was that sound?
The sound of the reaper
coming back home.

credits

from Miracle Strip, released August 31, 2022
Sound:
Scything on Sand Mountain, AL

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about

Matt Layne Birmingham, Alabama

Poet, librarian, raconteur; Matt Layne has been poking hornet's nests and looking under rocks since he was knee-high to a peanut peg.
I reckon you oughta check him out.