Two poems read by David R. Solheim, North Dakota's Poet in the Schools.
This recording was made available through a grant from the National Historical Publications & Records Commission.
Two poems read by David R. Solheim, North Dakota's Poet in the Schools.
This recording was made available through a grant from the National Historical Publications & Records Commission.
DAVID SOLHEIM: You got to have some imagination to farm. You've got to believe that things are going to come out of the ground and you've got to have something to occupy your mind when you're going back and forth and around and around that field. And this poem is, I guess, a poem of escaping that monotony to a different kind of perhaps monotony. I don't know, planning to fallow.
Tomorrow will be the day for it. The air still and the dust heavy from rain will hang low. The waves of heat drifting back from the engine will cut the chill like moving into warm pools on summer nights.
After two rounds, the gulls will come moving down from the lake to be my day long company waddling behind, picking bugs, or gliding around the tractor, above the wheels, near the muffler, just out of reach.
The big gray gulls are dignified, the smaller ones playful, weaving and calling to each other. One of them is red eyes in his hooded head will come to close with orange feet hanging down. I'll grab him and we'll fly in circles around the sky.
The farm that I worked on this last two or three springs i very hilly, rocky country. And another way to relieve the boredom of going back and forth around fields is to try and pay attention to the things you see around you.
And this poem is, I guess, about watching the things that are watching you. Every once in a while out in the fields, you get the sense of being the invader that you are. The poem is called Hawk in a Rocky Field.
The hawk watches me as I prepare the seed bed. He is larger and whiter than I have seen before. Each round brings me closer to his vantage point. Then he moves to another rock pile in the field.
Last time around, I noticed black bars of feathers below his throat. This time his head swivels me across his line of vision. I see the membrane flash across his eye, turning from my work, I return his focused gaze. Am I enclosed within his eye? What image does that globe reflect? He flicks a look away, hunches his shoulders and flies.
BILL SIEMERING: David Solheim, North Dakota's poet in the schools from Bismarck. I'm Bill Siemering.
Digitization made possible by the National Historical Publications & Records Commission.
Views and opinions expressed in the content do not represent the opinions of APMG. APMG is not responsible for objectionable content and language represented on the site. Please use the "Contact Us" button if you'd like to report a piece of content. Thank you.
Transcriptions provided are machine generated, and while APMG makes the best effort for accuracy, mistakes will happen. Please excuse these errors and use the "Contact Us" button if you'd like to report an error. Thank you.