Parallels

Agnes Martin, Eye Hill Rural Municipality
No. 382, Saskatchewan

The land moves
           without qualm
in billows and degrees
            of boredom, then pulls
back to a care-
            worn wince. Another shipment
of wind. Irascible as a lost
            letter, unsullied
by its constant
            gesture. Here is what I know:
the stretch
            of the land caught
up to me, slipped
            underneath,
and I learned the common wheat
            as my future
and past, and wised
            to the low-lying sameness
that appeared as the mantle
            of time
digging in, stretching
            out, and as much
as I looked, as deep
            as I searched, as my eyes went
to the plain,
            disappeared.