Ewan Elliott
JANUARY, 1999

A GOOD CROP
 
 

  He walked on unsteady legs through the dusk
  Fingering the leaves occasionally
  And kicking at the soil
  While he walked over his land
  As he smelt the air and the humus
  At one point he stopped and ran the soil through his fingers
  Grunting with satisfaction he continued
Through to the water tank being filled by slowly turning vanes
  And as he sat for a moment beneath the tower
  And watched the pump piston drawing its harvest
  And puffed quietly on his pipe
  He sat an old man at peace in a most bountiful land