Fallow, Fallow, Fallow All….

Posted on April 2, 2004 in Uncertainty

In Lancelot’s war, the ghost of Gawain blown
Along a wandering wind, and past his ear
Went shrilling, ‘Hollow, hollow all delight!
Hail, King! tomorrow thou shalt pass away.
Farewell! there is an isle of rest for thee.
And I am blown along a wandering wind,
And hollow, hollow, hollow all delight.’

– Alfred Lord Tennyson, Idylls of the King

Today’s word (in imitation of Frances Strand) is fallow connoting fog over a stubbled field. I’m staring at the furrows, knowing the seeds are there, waiting for the first hooks of the first green to appear.

Last night’s heavy rain thickened the air to the consistency of half-congealed gelatin. It tramples me with the ghosts of little calves’ hooves. There is no wind to herd them to the sea.