Farm Sense

Shotgun shells, fireworks, an empty casing, Burnt gunpowder sensed with imagined smell, Bring a smile as the mind begins onward racing, Of times past and grand stories to retell, Hunts to remember; 4th of Julys raising hell. Even the repugnant is remembered with glee, Fresh swine manure upon beds of loose straw, Time on the farm, a boy’s life lived carefree, Fishing, hunting, and building with grandpa, Learning gun safety and how to hammer and saw. A favorite to this day is corn cut fresh, Dust in the air with stalked rows piled, Behind the red tractor and an 8 row thresh. Memories overflow of that innocent child Of the fun that was had, a boy in the wild.