He stared at the horizon
stabbing the hoe to the ground, he looked up:
O seasons, where is your statement?
He sat
knees bent, he caress the soil which
he flatter
this is just the beginning: we will keep going
He stared at the lush of foliage
brown, pooled on the parched plain
O wind, give me a promise!
He sat cross-legged, set his breathing