Wheels circle round on edge
Not yet now comes past and gone
Unwinding life’s line
I wrote this poem, a haiku, earlier this year. The seed came to me as I clustered on “circles” one day. I got to thinking about the wheels on my bicycle as I ride, how a small patch of tire comes around, touches the earth for an instant, then begins the journey all over again, leaving a line in it’s wake.
Here, the tire is still, resting after climbing a hill. Actually, I was resting — I doubt the tire cared. I snapped this closeup on a whim. I always carry my little digicam with me on my rides.
And when I come this way, I always stop to rest beside this cornfield. Here is the new corn, the promise of early summer.
And here, the mature corn waits for the harvest.
And finally (until next year) the stubble left after the combine scythed through the cornfield. I missed seeing the combine in action this year. It’s an awesome thing to watch as it rumbles and cuts the rows of corn.
Bicycle wheels unwinding the road. The cycle of nature winding through the seasons until the harvest — until next year.
This cornfield is destined to become a public park. It was purchased by the County as part of the farmland preservation program. Maybe I’ll have the opportunity to photograph this field with the stubble poking through a light snow cover. I’d like that.