A Small Country Farm
Just a small country farm,
On a small country road,
A sixteen hand draft horse,
A pullin' the loads.
With maize as its mainstay,
Lofty tassels to the wind,
Lowly swine in the barn yard,
Venerable dairy cows in their pens.
Agrarian life's never easy,
Seems there's never a break,
Family somehow surviving,
When their lives are at stake.
Rising together,
With the light of the day,
A symphony -
Like the rivulet, flowing into the bay.
Spouse, his constant companion
Of more than two score years,
Steadfast confidant,
Mid' pleasure and tears.
Preparing his repast,
For a long, grueling day,
Always aware,
Life's time, passing away.
A hearty warm feast,
Of buttered toast, ham and eggs,
Fore' he treks to the fields
On his old, worn-out, rickety legs.
Sunrise to dust,
Ne'er completing his chores,
Will be dark, fore' he comes home
To the wife he adores.
Sowing and planting,
Enriching the soil,
Intrepid old farmer,
No less for his toil.
Every day the cycle,
Of life doth repeat,
Farmer and plow,
In the soil and the heat.
A second-hand Deere
Relieving ole' Sal,
Modern, technology
Not as reliable somehow.
Days on the farm
Are long and they're tough;
Hours pass slowly,
And they're never enough.
Seldom rewarding,
Life rarely sublime;
Going through the motions,
Like the caricatured mime.
A day in the fields
The farmer's true bliss,
His old wife waiting for him
With his dinner and kiss.
The old rustic farmer,
Barely making his way,
On a small country farm;
Just another, routine, ordinary day.
September 14, 2014
Copyright © R.A. Marschall | Year Posted 2016
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