Infinity on Edge

I recall – at age eight – a
field full of
triangles made of
six hay bales:
three kissing the earth
two holding the centre
and one with an eye on the sky.

This field was my playground;
I a fighter plane,
those bale stooks mountains,
and my flight a

O, to be eight again.
A magical age:
two zeros on
top of each
other –
on edge.

I heaven I suspect
I will be eight for
eternity, flying
leading me
to You, where I will
know myself anew.

2 thoughts on “Infinity on Edge

  1. shoreacres says:

    A new word: stook. I grew up with sheaves and shocks, but no stooks.

    I especially like your reinterpretation of the symbol for infinity. I’ve never thought of the figure “8” in that way, but it’s perfect. And now that so many have gone to round bales, it’s an image that fits even that bit of progress. I may never see stacks of round bales again as anything more than piles of infinity!

    • agjorgenson says:

      I was surprised to realize that I did not know how to spell “stook.” It was a spoken word, on the farmer, and clearly did not figure in our primers at school! We also see a lot of round bales around here, although some farmers have huge square bales… better for stacking, I guess.

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