Burlap sacks are stacked as countryside currency,
and the thresher roars,
rusting and clackety.
American animals might have taken this
as a cue to scatter, but here
heifers chomp cud, drift toward
shady spots, and eye us glassily.
The operators match in
tattered t-shirts and ballcaps,
and drift as the cows do,
dumping sack after sack into
the hopper, zenlike,
without a care,
without spilling a single grain.
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