by Donald Hall

by Donald Hall
     In October of the year，
     he counts potatoes dug from the brown field，
     counting the seed， counting
     the cellar's portion out，
     and bags the rest on the cart's floor.
     He packs wool sheared in April， honey
     in combs， linen， leather
     tanned from deerhide，
     and vinegar in a barrel
     hoped by hand at the forge's fire.
     He walks by his ox's head， ten days
     to Portsmouth Market， and sells potatoes，
     and the bag that carried potatoes，
     flaxseed， birch brooms， maple sugar， goose
     feathers， yarn.
     When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
     When the cart is sold he sells the ox，
     harness and yoke， and walks
     home， his pockets heavy
     with the year's coin for salt and taxes，
     and at home by fire's light in November cold
     stitches new harness
     for next year's ox in the barn，
     and carves the yoke， and saws planks
     building the cart again.