Furious Strawberries

Furious Strawberries

     Some fields, even flowers rebel

against order, cast among despotic

     critters who carry one, two seeds

'soever desire carries them, ornery

     like weevils or spiritless as vole fur,

whatever catches what. 

          Order makes entropy delirious.

                         Throughout this

earth, untallied yet known after sprouting

then picked after blooming, in confusion,

               our confusion upon waking

     amongst a village's plant wranglers.

                    Weeds too small to pull.

Rows of trailers empty into vans, boring

into hills and down passes to this valley

               underwhelmed by drought.

          For disorder, deposit dimes.

Somebody bought a spinning wheel

from a farmer. Another bought a sewing

machine. Both are loaded in our van

for the trip back tonight, but now our

     confusion's tempered by comrades'

groans which for some reason rhymes

                    with 'growns' in English. 

          Blackest night only pulses.

While furrows of strawberries sleep,

tonight we'll explain our business plans

     then sleep our exhaustion away,

so that tomorrow comes burning hot

     to cleanse ambitions, our souls.

               Don't curse the darkness:

          light the forest.

While furrows of strawberries sleep,

     miles away, in rows of trailers,

     we'll sleep while rain tippy taps

against a spout, then over a roof 

both moon and sun will rise, untimely.

[personae]