September
Leanne Shirtliffe
The combines whirred in the fields
surrounding the headstones
the day we buried my father,
and the gravedigger
from God-knows-where
covered him with topsoil
more costly than coffins.
After we walked away,
the backhoe
went back to work,
excavating extra graves
that were deemed more likely
than canola hitting twelve bucks a bushel.
This is how farmers prepare
for darkness:
get the crop off
before the freeze.