By four the day is on the wane
Though there’s hours left of sun
But the clock and the light on the windowpane
Say “almost done.”
The day and the workers are tired now
In the garden I think how glad I am
As I wipe the sweat from off my brow
Not to be stuck on the train with them.
Against my better judgment I decided to harvest the beans in the late afternoon, with the sun bearing down on my neck. It’s going to be burned, probably, because I forgot to wear a scarf and it doesn’t seem worth it to go back in and fetch one for the 15 minutes I’ll be here.
I watched a bee sip
Out of a fading flower
The heat of the sun