Poems

THE FARM

When I first met my husband

I was charmed

By the romantic notion

He'd grown up on a farm

And had worked the land

With his dad by hand

He'd had cereal for breakfast

With fresh cream from cows

Before doing the chores

And feeding the sows

Big dinners at noon were common

With pot roasts and pies

Early to bed and early to rise

Monday through Sunday

Outside, in all kinds of weather

Planting and harvesting

May through September

Never bored, I supposed

Always a task or something to do

A life that I knew

I'd have loved for myself

Or, at least, I thought I knew

But I didn't know

I didn't really understand

What it meant to "walk beans"

Without machines

In the heat of the day

And the physical work they did

Whether hauling in crops

Or stacking up hay

And the worry over weather

That each farmer can say

Is in his mind, day after day

The long hours of brawn

Sometimes until dawn

Of harvesting the nation's grains

Before it snows or rains

Just one day set aside for fun

Saturday night in town

To eat, bowl or see a film

And when the town shut down

It was back to the work of the farm

My husband couldn't wait

To separate from the farm

And enter the world of business

Which was fine with me

A city girl, you see

But now that we are back

In the country

Close to the old home-place

The charm and romance of the farm

Is seeping back into our souls

Slowly by drops

As we see the rows of crops

With new life beginning....

And searing sunsets over beanfields

That make our steps stop

And take a longer look

And we are at peace....

And now my husband, in spring and fall

Joins his brothers in the yearly call

To come back and work on the farm

To sew the seeds and reep the harvest

Once again

And now, the boy who left the farm

Has renewed moments of joy

For the farm really never left the boy.