America Speaking – a Work in Progress*

The Farmer

The farmer loves me

Sitting on his front porch

Looking out at his land

A hundred acres

Lying fallow now

Everything is resting

This is a good year

There have been others

He does not think for long on that

No, this is a time for sitting

For smoking a pipe

Thinking about his children

Gone now, busy elsewhere

Noisy, crowded places

Maybe this year he’ll visit

But the steel and grime

The haste, the tangled masses

What strength and foolishness

It takes to live like that

Yet he is proud of them

And happy to have this time

After this good harvest

To be, as he should be, grateful

* An earlier version of this series was published in my first poetry collection: Back and Out Again