These many years I’ve struggled
against the uncertainties 
of what I do not know.
Never versed in the inner
workings of the implements
needed for farm work,
I’ve cussed, tinkered for days,
bothered kindly neighbors,
drove to Cain’s tractor repair
and come home with wrong parts

Today I stand in the shed
surrounddd by a trinity of woe:
a leaky gearbox, a tiller’s broken
arm and a hay mower
that will not engage, and
contemplate the common fate
of myself and my machines:
a half-life of usefulness
existing in the economy of old age.
Bound to the ground of this place,
we’ll do as we’ve always done:
limp along
get by
look for someone to take care of us