The Farmer
The end of the end good friend indeed
The weeds to seed the leaves aflutter
Capital greed “Can’t save my seed”
Under his breath the farmer mutters
Close of the year brings heartache and fear
The wetter the spring the harder the going
Whistle a tune for a sad harvest moon
Fallow the fields, it soon will be snowing
Copyright © Fred Jagenberg | Year Posted 2019
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