The Soil -Turner and his essential attar...

This writing again comes from my experience of living in Tuscany, Italy. I took it upon myself to work with some of the local farmer's, Fosco, Alba, and Serafino as they taught me some of the tricks to taking care of the olive and fruit trees that were on our property.These contadini worked at a tireless rate throughout the day. The writing below is one of the many things they taught me while I lived there;



The Soil-Turner

He waits, and waits... with taciturn patience,
wrought by the years of his solitary labour.
He knows the season
beyond its name and apparent beauty.
And he will wait
to commence his task,
‘til a good rain falls, and the soil is right.

Then he will set out to the olive grove,
nine rows there, of eighty trees,
as he has for years past recompense.
Nostalgia playing no part in his game.
The soil is soft now–
ready to be turned.

The zappa his tool to break
ground, round each trunk.
He thwarts the weeds that breed
at foot, and with laconic effort
lets each tree breathe,
as he breathes with heaviness.

Too old is now to see the young trees bare fruit.
Still, he knows with a contadino’s sense
this work need be done if the oil of these trees,
this precious nectar– this essential attar–
is to have the bite;
that sharp virgin taste, that marks
one has turned his soil at moment’s right.