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Garden of Meager Harvest
Garden of a Meager Harvest
By David J Walker
The rusted remains
of the old farm truck
Remain on the untilled patch
of prairie grass plains
as long as I
can remember
The old Farmall tractor
Planted on the southside of a
Long row to hoe
that I know
All too well
A windmill unused for years
Squeals and creeks in a wind
That still tries in vain to
Turn its blades
For a cool drink of water
Monuments held
captive inside a
barbed wire fence
as if to prevent an escape
The trusted truck stands ready
As if it’s rusted out bed could
Carry to market the fruit of
A summers labor
The remains of the old
Pick-up lost its windows
Long ago
Field mice have nested under
The bench seat and eat
Everything that isn’t rusted metal
How long before its tires
Finally expire
exhaling rust
Giving up the ghost
Of a dusty last breath
Of a garden's meager harvest
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