The Great Harvest

He greets the rising sun with a puff of black smoke, Gritting his teeth against the cold and sending up prayers of hope. On this tractor he sits all day, Never to stop unless something were to break. Swinging the auger out to signal the tank is full, Bank out comes up full speed and tries not to drop one hull. All day long this is the scene, So perfectly timed and almost serene. The sun starts to set, But they continue to go, for they’re not done yet. The painted colors of the sky, So peaceful and stunning in his eyes. With darkness starting to settle in and cover, The rice dust will slowly start to hover. He turns on the lights and continues his rows, For until the harvest is finished, he will never slow.