My Grandpa

The tractor kept its course, row after row; I spied your worn, green cap pulled fast and low. The gulls swept down, their daily meal was laid And as they rose, their wings shot silver rays. I walked out to the field, your lunch in hand; For nature set the time to work the land And farmer’s hours are not observed in towns. I waited ‘til you stopped and mounted down. Your eyes were faded blue and sparkling kind; You paused and placed one hand on top of mine, Then hands ungloved, you took the pan of food And smiled, then said my girl, my girl so good. We sat beside the tractor, finding shade And shared the simple lunch my grandma made; While overhead the gulls swooped in the sky, We sat in rest and comfort side by side. Then once again you mounted to your task; You’d let me ride along, if I’d but ask. I’d stand behind you, swaying with the land And prayed to God this moment would not end.