Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Rain & Harvest to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
At the end of the harvest, when the fields were shorn and bare,
The farmers hauled their bounty to the granary with care.
The door was old and heavy, with a latch of rusted steel,
And it groaned upon its hinges with a slow and creaking squeal.
Inside, the sacks were stacked like walls, and the golden grain poured in,
Like a river made of sunshine, with a whisper thin as skin.
A cat curled up on a sack and watched the mice at play,
For a granary is a kingdom where the small hold sway.
The farmer counted bushels, and he wrote them in his book,
And he thanked the rain and sunshine with a long and grateful look.
When he shut the heavy door, he felt secure and calm,
For a granary full of grain is a hymn, a song, a psalm.
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Commentary
The granary is where a farm keeps its year. This poem stands at the old heavy door and watches the harvest go in.
When “the fields were shorn and bare,” the farmers “hauled their bounty to the granary with care.” The door has “a latch of rusted steel” and “groaned upon its hinges.” Inside, “the sacks were stacked like walls,” and “the golden grain poured in” like “a river made of sunshine.”
A cat sits on a sack and watches the mice, for “a granary is a kingdom where the small hold sway.” The farmer counts “bushels” and thanks “the rain and sunshine.” When he shuts the door, he feels “secure and calm,” for “a granary full of grain is a hymn, a song, a psalm.”