This week's Flying Poetry Bus is driven by Jeanne.
and one of the themes is What's in a Name. Here we go.
Toiling in the fields backs straining,
the sun weak on the midsummer plain not far from Hamburg
and the cold sea
They bent to their work
the unending work
their bodies strained automatically in the long-known rhythm
their minds wandered, focused on nothing
they were at one with the oxen pulling the plow
at one with the ponies turning the thresher
A bell rang out
and the people stood
put aside their tools
became human again
and smiled at each other as they headed for dinner
happy the Ringer of the Hour had released them.
Friday comes round again.
7 hours ago