The Angelus, by Jean-Francois Millet, Ekphrastic prompt.
It rings every day, the Angelus bell,
and every day they stop and pray,
and every day they start again,
another furrow filled with seed,
another day broken on labour’s back.
Furrows, horse-trod, fill with rain
or seed or pigeons, later barley,
cabbage, rye, to be scythed, dug,
weeded and pigeons to scare.
The bell rings and rings again
And all that changes is the light
and the hands that join in prayer,
more wrinkled and worn each season,
until pigeons peck the scanty seed
and fly, as the final furrow is dug.