Two hundred miles I sojourned yesterday
to see one tractor and its drill
seeding the Fargo clay.
For me that’s always April’s greatest thrill
which this year came in May.
Snowmelt soaked into soil. None ran downhill
so our forecasted flood went bust.
Long loitered the chill
of winter, but at least no clouds of dust
blow from the fields we till.
Articles by Timothy Murphy
