Home
Chores are done at dawn,
coffee brewed with a yawn.
Rooster crows on his toes,
at dusk our day comes to a close.
Raindrops fall from the skies,
as a Bald Eagle cries.
Mending fences ends in defeat,
wet grass smells so sweet.
Seasons come day by day,
field hands never seem to stay.
Green apples on the tree are tart,
this farm is part of my heart.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
