Marie Elena’s selection – Katie Dixon’s Untitled draft:

Katie’s draft is dense with imagery, and speaks both physically and metaphorically.  “We paraded down the rows, looking only side-to-side with our wide-brimmed hats and simple pails of water” is pleasingly unpretentious in its imagery, yet hints at possible trouble on the path ahead, actually and figuratively.  I think this would be a great opening for Katie’s poem.

I am gripped by the number of lines in this short piece that stand alone as quotable words of wisdom.

 -  “Water and sun we had and we smiled, while creeping roots stole silently beneath.”

-  “But salty tears do not grow beauty from shallow soil.”

-  “Lessons hard-learned have rescued beauty from ignorance.”

This is a wonderful poem that is potentially fabulous, in my opinion.

Untitled by Katie Dixon


At first we did not notice as they wound
around our ankles, shedding them like shoes.
We paraded proudly down the rows looking only side
To side with our wide-brimmed hats and simple pails of water.

Everything we learned said everything
We’d need was water and sunshine to grow.
Water and sun we had and we smiled,
While creeping roots stole silently beneath.

And then our walks got harder.
Calves straining at the tangled vines and our backs
wondered from where they’d come as we bent
fighting to free our legs from their wicked fingers.

Turning to our flowering friends, our innocent,
wincing eyes wept, straining to find hidden faces.
But salty tears do not grow beauty from shallow soil
And good and bad swirl together in their reflective pools.

“These weeds have turned to trees!” I shout.
Grasping, tearing with rough worn hands
“We’ll never get them down.” But we let the
Never carry over into our night-long toil.

The day soon rises on straining shoulders;
Our Weathered faces speak the sun.
Pails are cast aside for buckets
And our callused feet sigh in cool, soaked soil.

Our now muscled forms tread lightly on tender,
tended earth. Knowing eyes keep careful watch
over fledglings finally free. Lessons hard-learned
have rescued beauty from ignorance.

Walt’s choice is Andrew Kreider’s “Salt”:

Andrew captured the essence of salt quite well. It adds flavor to life, but can be caustic and harmful if not taken in the right balance. The moderation he prescribes finds the right proportion.

“Life and death in each farmer’s hands” and “Helping wheat and weeds grow up together” are two lines that express this concept well. We control how much of ourselves to reveal to nurture or destroy our relationships. It brings us to a common understanding, despite our obvious differences, allowing us to grow and exist together. Freedom shared.