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The Farmer

Raised on a farm in the South, Father ended up farming most of his life. He loved the land, the growing things, and the animals. He went off to work early in the morning whistling and singing. We kids would tag along to work in the fields and secretly hope for early thunderstorms. early morning stars wet dew the sound of roosters When he was about to retire, he could no longer make a living as a farmer. Elderly, he had trouble finding work in the rural area of the South where he lived. The only job he could find was working for a chicken processing plant. They had thousands of chickens crammed in cages and behind wire fences awaiting slaughter. They gave him a job using a heating iron to burn off part of the chickens’ beaks, so the they would not damage each other through pecking. He lasted a week Making pets of them all started smoking again (Published Haibun Today - 2008)

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 5/6/2015 11:08:00 AM
This poetic trip though the heart is, thought provoking, descriptive, and creative all rolled up into a beautiful poem. Emile. #7
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Date: 5/5/2015 2:27:00 PM
Oh this made me think of my dad he uses to snip a tiny bit off their beaks stop them pecking the eggs ... but ours were free range hens we had over 100 on our small holding - great descriptive write:-) hugs Jan xx 7xx
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Book: Shattered Sighs