Summer Plunge
written by: Karlo Sevilla
@KarloSevilla
We couldn’t care less:
We’ve heard stories
of Manong Farmer
driving away trespassers
from his hallowed paddy field,
brandishing a bolo.
Still, Tristan and I dared to walk
and make balance beams
of the mounded boundaries
one late summer afternoon.
Then a dog barked and gave chase.
I slipped and fell, butt landing
on a bunch of seedlings.
True enough, a man shouted,
and turning around
we saw Manong Farmer
running from his nipa hut,
towards us with knife in hand.
Quickly I picked myself up and
we scampered away with the words
“This is not a playground!”
screamed furiously at us.
Back home at dinner,
eating rice with fish,
I wondered how much
potential income Manong lost
from the seedlings
I inadvertently destroyed, and if
someone would get hungry,
denied a plate of grains,
because of my fall.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This poem is dedicated to the Filipino farmer.
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