Colours pull purple across the sky, licked upon a sunset breeze that traverses the burgeoning darkness, casting swooping shadows that peer into melancholic angles of valleys, across spans of gaping land that curl and return in an indiscernible repetition of itself. Nestled somewhere within this mess of uniformity is Judas, keeper of the fold, working.
Field(20.25), Judas is making noise and it is coming between the tall necks of plant, rustling in their sheaf, crowned gold ears listen to his grind. Sucked by a longing wind Judas stands up, stretches back, and returns forward to lean on his ageing wooden hoe. He is wearing a loose flax shirt, blown tight across his scrawny torso, a relief of barren desolation - pronounced clavicle, the rigid bow of ribcage, a subtle protrusion of sternum. And it is as if at once this pushing, pulling, cutting and sowing, harvesting, milling, grabbing and catching, catches up with him. He is hit by it. His mind, his body, sacrificed on the altar of time: Days, seasons, years and decades, slaving for the dirt, to turn it in and to turn it out, to see its yield, a manifestation of his muscle and mettle of mind, diminish with the wind.
I really like this - this is the fourth time I've read this now and I thought I simply had to leave a comment, as I like it all the more on each fresh reading. It's so vivid and, despite being very wordy, not overwhelming. Your style is very distinctive and engaging, and also very effective. The only thing I thought was that perhaps the final phrase could be clearer if you had a semi-colon or colon before 'to see its yield' and then dashes separating the middle clause:
...slaving for the dirt, to turn it in and to turn it out; to see its yield - a manifestation of his muscle and mettle of mind - diminish with the wind.
This may disrupt your style, though, so feel free to ignore! :-) It's brilliant anyway!