The straight and curving rows I watched
Laid down in the black and empty fields
By my farmer neighbor time
But his name was Vern short for Vernal
I suppose because of what he called
Up out of those black and empty fields
Of rye and wheat and corn
Where I saw only individual lives
In the traffic of perennial towns
Vern loved his land easily
I could see that from my window
I just stood there like a year
Stuck on summer but drawn back
To those black and empty fields
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