| The hopper was filled to the brim with harvest. |
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 | "Field" is a construct, a word that gives us fake leverage. If we call it one thing so that we can manipulate it, the handle on a skillet, the hook for hanging a coat up. | |
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| The field is now, for all intents and purposes, empty. It is close cropped. |
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| It is not one thing. It is a desperate many things that live within one thing. | |
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| I can do no more for now. No will, no wherewithall, no whatmenot. I am fallow. |
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| It is fox and a hedgehog, both and neither and all. | |
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