Abandoned Agricultural Machinery of the Ross

Hay rakes, looking rickety, like home-made chariots
    crossed with bike racks. Rusty balers, like
scuppered rattleships in the Great Reef of Bracken.

Thistle reapers, lost in the old enemy's encircling
    embrace, like colonial administrators who
missed the memo. A whole can clan of slurry tanks.

Seth Crook

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Seth Crook would be pleased to hear them.