In South Dakota there is a word for Hail. The White Combine that drives in the night and goes against
Nature. ''Eight hundred acres,'' you say over the phone,
''It's like all my friends are waving goodbye from a boat.''
''I'm standing on shore waving my ticket. This is the year
I was supposed to make it. Instead I crawled beneath my
Tractor and waited while I watched it take my crop.''
When the stalks are damaged the heads of the sunflowers
keep filling while their own weight wrestles them down.
to the ground. You watch for slow weeks and when all
their faces are in the mud you decide to go into town.
The sky froze and turned white and cracked and fell down.