The Farm Fields
The wind swept across the fields of wheat
The breeze curled around each head of grain
Waves would ripple through the fields
Looking like the waves of an ocean lapping to shore
As the sun beat upon these heads of grain
They turned from green to a golden color
They now have become prairie gold
The harvest in the fall has truck loads of wheat
Taken to the elevators for shipping to the coast
From the coast wheat goes world wide
To feed the hungry and give man bread
From the wind swept prairie's
Where the farmer makes his bed.
Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2009
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