The Cheatgrass and the Scythe
There’s an old farmer’s tale called “The Cheatgrass and the Scythe,” where gratitude is given to pendulum hands. All afternoon the farmer scythes green crooked wands till they slump upon death. Acre after acre scything becomes methodical. Then again, so does grieving. Consider the farmer’s heart palsied by grief, the color of misery radiates from his cheeks and his eyes, which go the way of the oak, where […]
Melancholy Hyperbole 