often in the spring, scent
of freshly fertilized fields
wafting softly over morning dew.
My nose instinctively crinkles and my emotions turn instinctively annoyed,
but I let the fertilized earth fill my lungs and I am filled with love
and a sense of protection over this place.
The smell of the earth reminds me
of what is real, of what is not
curated for our consumption.
The midwest farmers are real.
The midwest farmers are everything.
The midwest farmers are everything I am not.
I love them for this.
If you are not familiar with the midwest life
then you may not understand what it is
to be made of contradictions.
To all at once be judge and protector.
To all at once be thick and permeable.
Like the soil, the conditions have to be right.
Tillable, the desire to be turned over