For The Farmer

Last night
     I dreamt of the turned earth
          of the smell and feel of it in my hands
     I dreamt of a greenhouse in March
          of warm dampness and green

Last night
     I dreamt of machinery stilled
          of tractor and backhoe and excavator, silent
     I dreamt of trees wakening in the sun
          of small buds bursting forth

Last night
     I dreamt of soft words spoken
          of forgiveness and peacemaking
     I dreamt of calloused hands on my skin
          of teeth and hot mouth on my neck

Last night
     I dreamt I was back where I belonged

Last night
     I dreamt of you