Gabby Gilliam

My grandfather was a dairy farmer in upstate New York. Although milk was his main focus, he also grew acres of summer crops. He loved to experiment with new plant varieties. He always tried the newest strain of sweet corn and grew zucchinis the size of my thigh, but the most excited I ever saw him was the summer he discovered patty pan squash. 

For as long as they have existed, humans have depended on plants for survival. We foraged in the wild before we learned how to cultivate our own crops. I like to think those early farmers experienced the same delight with their first harvest that my grandfather did the first season he grew that squash. 

While reading a book about the agricultural revolution that helped humans become less nomadic, I began to consider how humans helped wheat become one of the most successful plants on the planet. We cleared acres of land so it could grow in full sunlight and we made sure no weeds would compete for its nutrients. This line of thought led to my poem “Agricultural Revolution.” Written from the plant’s perspective, it explores the theory that plants may have domesticated us. If that’s true, humans make terrible pets.