Worksong

20 THE MINNESOTA REVIEW So, tell me your (songs and) stories, Arab Salomé; let's dare, & truly, to compare our energy. Dec. 24, 1977 RALPH BURNS WORKSONG Gone for awhile, the low saw's buzz hangs in our sweat, a walk through miles and miles of leaves and wet limbs. All still when work is still, the worksong sits in blue fields ready for the sun. Why does the grass grow so near it? When do pennies fall? The worksong cares but doesn't know. It starts around the tapping of nails, the brass left out all night by children and the moon. Now, sing it together so we have it. Before winter drives us in. Sing it for the roots and stumps, once tall wives lovely in the doorway, who crawl home now, hurt and slow. ...